


God-like Proportions

by LittleRedUmbrella



Category: Book of Life (2014), gravepainters - Fandom
Genre: Ancients, Angst, Children, Developing Relationship, Emotional, F/M, Gods, Heartbreak, Love, Marriage, Married Couple, Married Life, Mayan Mythology - Freeform, Multi, Old Married Couple, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Passion, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Romance, Tears, The Book of Life - Freeform, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:28:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 46,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedUmbrella/pseuds/LittleRedUmbrella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the events of The Book of Life film. Xibalba and La Muerte are reconciled but face each other with new questions and ways to take their eternal life together to the "next level". Also featured are the brother and sister of each, La Noche and El Chamuco, who are going to learn much more about their "political marriage". A series following the characters including minor appearances from the other characters seen in the Book of Life. (Also references to the Cartoon Network show, El Tigre).</p><p>Read on other platforms here!:<br/>deviantART: http://lil-red-umbrella.deviantart.com/art/God-Like-Proportions-Questions-Chapter-1-549606655?ga_submit_new=10%253A1439224396&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1</p><p>fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11439008/1/God-Like-Proportions</p><p>Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/46956172-god-like-proportions</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for this possibly semi-awkward first chapter. I am horrible at introductions, but if you can bear with me, I PROMISE it will get better!

Xibalba awoke to find that his wife had already arisen from bed. It was extremely early in the morning, but the two of them had slept more peacefully than they had in eons. It had been a few days since their reconciliation, the day that Manolo Sanchez married Maria Posada. There was an endless _fiesta_ held for the two gods in the Land of the Remembered, where he was once again welcome. He hadn’t stepped foot in the Land of the Forgotten since, but knew that barely anything bad could happen. The King slipped a purple robe onto himself and stretched, too lazy to put on his armor this early in the morning. He searched for La Muerte until he saw her standing out on the balcony of their castle bedroom. Following her out, he surprised her when his hands touched her waist from behind, and he kissed her gently on the cheek.

“Good morning, _mi amor_ ,” he whispered quietly.

La Muerte nearly melted at his touched. She leaned back onto him and returned the kiss, placing a hand on the side of his face. “And _Buenos Dias_ to you, my darling.” She knew he was a sucker for the way she touched him.

Xibalba looked out towards the Land of the Remembered. Their realm was not immune to the concepts of day and night. Its citizens began to rise and greet each other as they did every morning, preparing for the next fiesta that they were all so fond of.

“Are we continuing today with our public appearances?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her. “Or can I just keep you all to myself today?”

La Muerte giggled. “You can be so selfish, Balbi,” she teased. “You’re so cute when you’re selfish.”

“Oh come on dear,” he whined. “I’m allowed to be from time to time.”

The Queen turned to her husband and put her hands on his chest.“I don’t know mi amor… I’m very busy… I do have a schedule you know.”

Xibalba frowned. “Am I not a priority, my dear?” He ran his long, thin fingers through her hair. She must have spent extra care brushing it this morning, he thought, it’s softer than ever. How long had she been up? He was slightly concerned. La Muerte stroked his beard teasingly and brushed past him towards the balcony door. She turned and winked at him.

“I’ll see if I can fit you in, my love.” She grinned as she entered back into their bedroom, and Xibalba skulked behind her. She sat on their unmade bed and held out a small hand, while giving him her most innocent eyes. He couldn’t resist. He grabbed her hand and she pulled him down next to her. He placed a hand on her neck gently and she leaned in to kiss him.

“Maybe I can find a minute or two,” she joked before pressing her lips against his. Xibalba closed his eyes and took in her sugary taste, the taste he hadn’t stopped loving since the day they first kissed. The two of them inched closer together. His hand curled around the back of her neck, as if to keep her as close as possible to him. He began to lean back onto the bed, as she pressed both of them down. Unfortunately, they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, followed by, “Your majesty? I apologize if I had awoken you, but there is a matter I feel you must address.”

La Muerte stood without question and fixed herself. Xibalba groaned and murmured, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She opened the door to find one of her many workers standing there. He was one of the greeters of the realm, the one who would take newly deceased souls to their rightful place in the Land of the Remembered.

“Your majesty,” he said quietly. “We have two new arrivals… a young woman holding a newborn child… I fear they may have both died together. She’s very afraid. As for the baby... it is a very strange case… We are not sure of what to do. La Muerte breathed in slightly, she couldn’t bear to hear the news of a life taken so young. She hurried out the door and followed behind her greeter. Xibalba plopped onto their bed an laid there, knowing better that to involve himself in affairs she was an expert in.

La Muerte met the mother, young, brown haired thin woman who clutched a little white bundle at her breast. There were quiet noises coming from the blanket, neither of distress or sorrow, but curious little sounds that an infant would make. Her name was Josephina, and the child’s name was Antonio. La Muerte took them both inside the grand hall and attempted to calm the mother down.

“My husband…” she cried. “He must be devastated… He wanted to meet our baby more than anything.”

La Muerte sat the poor woman down and gripped her hand while glancing at the child. “Your husband will remember you, Josephina, and your precious little boy. He will remember you until the day he too comes down here. As long as you will stay with us, in the Land of the Remembered, we will do everything we can to make sure you and your baby will have the most amazing experience. It’s what we do here.”

Josephina wiped her eyes and peered down at her baby boy. The little child cooed up at his mother, and then caught a glimpse of the goddess. He began to gurgle excitedly and reached for her with his tiny hands. La Muerte smiled and extended a finger, which he grasped immediately.

“Have I failed?” Josephina asked quietly. “My son will never know what it is like to live… I brought him here with me because I failed to even give him life..” La Muerte’s smile soon faded into a look of sorrow. She pitied the two, and sensed the mother’s uneasiness. “Is there anything…” she begged. “Anything you can do to help my son? Forget me… I want his father to meet him. They have to be together… My husband must be so broken…” The goddess peered down at the baby boy, who had not let go of her finger since. She would have to consult the ancient rules to be able to bring him back from the dead. And consulting the ancient rules meant consulting at least the husband, or the Candlemaker. She had to do it quickly too, or else too much suspicion in the Land of the Living would arise.

“Give me one moment, Josephina.” She stood quickly and transported back to her bedroom. Xibalba had dressed himself in his daily armor and was casually eating the from a bowl of caviar. The look on his wife’s face caught his attention immediately.

 _“Mi Corazón_ ,” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“I want to give someone life,” she said blatantly. “I need you to be there with me.”

Xibalba creased his eyebrows. “My darling… who is this someone, exactly?”

“I want to send an infant boy back to the Land of the Living,” she sighed. “He perished with his mother in childbirth… the poor woman wants nothing more to reunite her son with his father.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, picking at his teeth. “Once you start making exceptions, it’s very hard to stop.”

“Xibalba!”

“It’s true, my darling!”

La Muerte grabbed her husband’s hands frantically and gripped them. “Please, Balbi,” she begged. “It’s just this once. I’ve never seen a woman so willing to let her child see his father.”

Xibalba sighed and nodded. “Alright, fine.” He didn’t even realize how quickly his wife transported them back into the grand hall. Josephine looked up at the god and curled back slightly, obviously reluctant to let her child glance at him. Baby Antonio did so anyway, and Xibalba was surprised to find him giggling. He turned to his wife. “By the ancient rules, my dear?” La Muerte nodded and Josephine handed her the bundle. “By the ancient rules…” He took her free hand and together, they said to the child, “We give you life.”

Right before the flash of light, Xibalba noticed how tenderly La Muerte held the bundle in her arms. There was a specific softness in her eyes, one much different than those he was used to. As the light disappeared, La Muerte sighed slightly and took Josephina away to comfort her and to show her the Land of the Remembered. Xibalba knew that her face was strong for the young mother, but there was a different emotion lurking below. He wouldn’t dare call her out on it now. But he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking, and hoped she wouldn’t keep it from him.

They met for lunch in the dining hall of the castle, as they usually did. La Muerte was quiet and picking at her plate, while Xibalba grabbed whatever was on the table as he pleased. He looked up and tried to eye her, but found she was lost in her own train of thought.

“Mi amor,” he asked. “What’s wrong? You’ve been like this since the incident with that woman. You’re never bothered by cases of new arrivals.”

“No, it’s not that…” La Muerte set down her fork and turned towards her husband. “Balbi… we married centuries ago. I know we’ve been apart for so long but… But…”

“But what, Muertita?”

“How come we’ve never had children?”

Xibalba nearly dropped the grapes he was holding and froze. His brain rambled for words to respond with, but shut down instead. He never had to think about such a topic before.

“Uhm… darling… well…”

La Muerte bit her lip and rose from her chair suddenly, disappearing before him. She regretted asking. And Xibalba regretted not having a better answer.


	2. Burning the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Centers around La Noche and El Chamuco, the siblings of Xibalba and La Muerte. It gets a little NSFW...so stop reading after a few paragraphs if you aren't comfortable...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La Noche and El Chamuco + HOT STUFF!!! I didn't intend for this to get sexy but it did. You don't have to read it or like it if you're uncomfortable, but this helps sets up their relationship so..... yay sexy!

La Noche awoke to find her husband still in bed, but going through piles of mail. She sat up and leaned on his shoulder, her tangled black hair falling in front of her face. She yawned and pressed her cheek against the sleeve of his black velvet robe. El Chamuco looked away from the letters and kissed his wife on the forehead, wrapping a long arm around her and pulling her toward him as much as he could.

“ _Buenos diás, mi amor,”_ he said gruffly. She yawned, but peered up at him with a sly smile.

 

“ _Buenos diás_ , Chamuco. What have you got there?” she pointed to the letters. He spread some of the sealed papers between his fingers and handed them to her.

 

“Typical, boring mail, my dear,” he chuckled. “Would you like to help me take a look?”

    

“I can’t even imagine who would be writing to us,” she scoffed, a little sarcastically. La Noche tossed her hair back and took the letters, scanning them for anything important. Nothing caught her eye, but she was curious when El Chamuco said,

 

“‘Che, it’s a letter from your sister,”

 

La Noche quickly snatched the letter from his hands and opened it without haste. Her and her sister rarely kept in touch, for various reasons. In the back of her mind, La Noche thought about reaching out from time to time, but her pride always got the best of her before she would give any more mind to the idea. She was happy that La Muerte took the initiative before she did. La Noche leaned on her husband and read the note under her breath.

         

_“Dear sister,_

_I know you and your husband are busy during the_ Dia de los Muertos _celebrations, but in light of the recent events you’ve heard of, Xibalba and I both extend our invitations to The Land of the Remembered for dinner. It took Xibalba a while to agree to host this, but then again, it takes Xibalba a while to agree to do anything. I would love to see you and El Chamuco again. It must be centuries since we have been in the same room together, let alone dined._

_I hope you can find it in your heart to come see us again. The two of us have never seen eye-to-eye, as most twin sisters don’t, but we cannot keep silent forever. The food will be grand, and Xibalba planned on obtaining what he calls “the best wine he’s had in his life”. I’m not really sure what that means, but he guarantees you two will think the same once you’ve tried it._

_Sincerely,_

_La Muerte.”_

La Noche felt touched, a feeling she seldom obtained. She folded the letter and set it on her nightstand. Chamuco watched his wife with a slightly smug face.

    

     “We plan on attending, I assume?” he asked.

 

     “I don’t see why not,” she replied, climbing out of bed lazily. She reached for her hairbrush and began to rip through her hair, a process she had gotten used to over the centuries. Like her sister, she did have long, black, luscious locks. But that was after brushing them out like a madman. “Do you object to going?”

    

     “Oh no, not at all,” he chuckled, setting the rest of the letters aside. “It’ll be good to see my little brother, after all.” He shook his head. “I still cannot believe I lost that wager to him.”

 

     “It’s been so long since that happened, Chamuco,” La Noche said, struggling to rip her brush past a segment of her hair. “Get over it. He won. Now maybe you two can be nice to one another? Like _real brothers_?”

 

     El Chamuco came up to his wife and slowly lifted her chin with a finger. Their eyes met and he gave her a sly and playful smile.

 

     “Stop defending my brother, _Cielo,_ ” he whispered softly as he dipped in for a passionate kiss. La Noche leaned back as her fiery lips met his. She dropped her hairbrush and gripped his thick neck. She squealed a little as his arms crawled around her body, landing on her lower waist and teasing along her chest. He played around with the sensitive parts of her body, and she couldn’t help but let out tiny, pleased cries as he did.

 

     “ _’Che_ ,” he chuckled. “Any louder and they’ll hear us.”

    

     “You married me, didn’t you?” she said roughly, grabbing at the collar of his velvet robe. “You are a king, aren’t you?” Her voice became rough and the fire in her sparked. “Let them hear. Let them know you’re my king.”

 

     Chamuco grabbed her waist and ripped her towards him, kissing her. The taste of her tongue burned him, excited him, hardened him. In the last few weeks, their marriage had become full of passion almost as fiery as when he first courted her. Being married for centuries, with many complicated years between them, their marriage had been a little dull. El Chamuco had control of both the Land of the Unknown and the Land of the Cursed. Sometimes he was gone for months at a time in the Land of the Cursed, and it had aroused La Noche’s suspicion of her husband’s fidelity. He proved his innocence and loyalty, and she reluctantly apologized for her attacks. Chamuco never had thoughts of cheating on his wife, despite months of loneliness at times, but now was sure he would never even try. Besides, he knew the punishment for infidelity as gods. He had seen what had happened to his poor brother, even though he wasn’t completely guilty of his crime.

 

     La Noche gripped at her husband’s arms as he tore apart the seams of her nightgown. It was the third one they had destroyed since the beginning of the month, but they had little concern for that. The dress slipped down from her fair body, revealing to him every curve that he had come to love so much. He sensitively ran his fingers down her sides and felt the tremors he sent through her body. La Noche stood completely bare before her husband, resting her hands on his pajamas.

    

     “I make it easy for you,” she skulked. “You wear so many layers of clothing to bed. So much work, Chamuco… so much work…”

    

     It was like her to complain. The Devil found himself grinning as he watched her toss off his robe. She teasingly played with the buttons of his silk pajamas, tracing her hands along his chest as she undid them one by one. He loved and hated the anticipation at the same time. As he let go of her, his arms straightened and his top slipped off his built body. La Noche could never get over how devilishly handsome her husband was. He stood naked before her from the waist up. She fumbled with the waistband of his pants and gazed up at him.

 

     “Your orders, my king?”

 

     “Oh _Cielo_ ,” he murmured gruffly. “My turn to do the hard work.”

 

     He gripped her lower waist and raised her up into his arms. He kissed her neck softly and she melted into him, moaning quietly. His hands stroked her hair, still messy from last night’s sleep. They retreated back into bed and she laid underneath him. He finished undressing, and tossed his pants back into the pile of clothes they left on the floor. His arms were on either side of her, his veins bursting under his skin. She loved the sight of it. He resumed pressing his lips against her decollate and up her neck. La Noche’s knee lifted a little out of impulse and his shut her eyes, moaning louder. That’s when Chamuco knew it was time to enter.

 

     His great strength propelled them into motion. He moved back and forth inside of her. The room filled with noises; La Noche’s cries, the rocking of the bed, Chamuco’s moans of pleasure. He was sure the sound waves had penetrated the walls of their grand bedroom by now. They create a rhythm, which the both of them were quite tuned into.

 

     La Noche was afraid the song would not last for very long. The rest of the castle had begun to rouse, going about their daily routines. She wanted to keep her husband by her as long as possible this morning. He sensed the worry in her; she had begun to lose focus. He placed a hand on her cheek and turned her face towards him.

 

     “Today is about you and me, ‘Che,” he said. “Forget the rest of them.”

 

     The Rulers of the Land of the Unknown fell into one another and kissed as they continued to explore each other’s bodies, as they had done time and time again.


	3. Of Brothers and Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more family-oriented than the previous two! The rulers of the Land of the Unknown come to feast in the Land of the Remembered, as well as catch up on eons-old news. The brothers find themselves in need of each other's advice. The sisters in need of each other's comfort. Read and you'll see how it plays out!!!

She caught him strolling through the palace kitchen, picking off bits and pieces of food that had just been plated for dinner. It was so like Xibalba to impulsively try every dish before a big meal, to make sure everything was to his liking when it was presented at the table. As he reached to pick off up a Danish tart, La Muerte slapped his shoulder and he retreated.

     “What??”

     “You do this every time we’re hosting a dinner, Xibalba,” she scolded, crossing her arms. “Sometimes I wonder how you have room left in there for the _actual dinner_.” She poked his stomach abruptly.

     “When exactly was the last time that both of us held a dinner?” he asked defensively. “Not just you?”

     “Last week, when Candle Maker came to visit.”

     “Oh that was hardly a hosted dinner.” Xibalba scoffed and reached into the raspberry bowl, tossing one into his mouth. “He just came by and ate all of the _churros_.”

     “This is your brother and my sister we’re talking about.” La Muerte cocked her head to the side. “Or maybe that’s what you’re afraid of…”

     Xibalba gave her a displeased face. “Oh please, I’m not afraid of anything.”

     “You want everything to be perfect because you know Chamuco will try to find fault in something.”

     “Did you ever consider the fact that maybe I just really like food?”

     He immediately realized how dumb of a sentence that was and regretted even opening his mouth. La Muerte burst out laughing and slapped a hand on his broad shoulder. She kissed his cheek and took his arms.

     “Relax, Balbi. For me?”

     He hated it when she played the “for me” card. Only because he knew he couldn’t resist doing what she said. Without verbal response, he left the kitchen with her, snatching an ambrosia macaroon before making his way through the door.

~

     El Chamuco and La Noche were welcomed back to the Land of the Remembered as if they had resided there alongside La Muerte. They rarely ever visited the festive realm, only because they had little inclination to do so. The table had been grandiosely set, complete with freshly crafted candles and La Muerte’s best silverware. Near the centerpiece, three choices of the Wines of Ages had been placed, each a personal favorite of Xibalba’s. Upon sitting, El Chamuco reached for the one of a dark plum color and read the label, eyeing his younger brother across the table.

     “A Cadava poison,” he smirked. “I haven’t had this in ages.”

     “Hand-picked by yours truly,” Xibalba replied, leaning back into his chair. “Not my most favorite of the three, but it works with tonight’s menu.”

     La Muerte rolled her eyes jokingly and glanced at her husband. “You look so proud of yourself.”

     “When it comes to wine, I think I’m allowed to be.”

     Chamuco poured some for himself and for Noche, who was gazing around the dining hall.

     “The columns in here are fantastic,” she commented, raising the wine chalice to her lips. “When did you have them done?”

     “Just last week,” La Muerte said half-heartedly. “I don’t feel much for them, but this one demanded we put them in.” She gestured to her husband, who had poured himself wine as well.

     “At least someone appreciates a bit of class here,” Xibalba snorted, taking a sip. “I told you they don’t look bad.”

     “So let me get this straight,” Chamuco laughed. “You move back in and the first thing you do is remodel your wife’s house?”

     “Does it look like I remodeled the entire thing?!” Xibalba took another sip and murmured, “The curtains could go though.”

     La Muerte glared at him, but dropped the topic when the servants began to set the food on the table. Nearly every inch of the light hardwood had been covered by a plate, from small things like grapes and berries, to large, perfectly cooked main courses, and dessert bits like a bowl of whipped cream and chocolate cake.

     “Now this is a dinner!” Chamuco laughed.

     “Don’t dine like this much in the Land of the Unknown?” Xibalba teased.

     “Not enough resource, I’m afraid. Much less in the Land of the Cursed.” Chamuco closed his hand into a fist and leaned over slightly to his brother. “You don’t know what it’s like to starve, do you?”

     “Chamuco!” La Noche remarked, smacking his arm. “Stop it.”

     Chamuco sat back and rolled his eyes, and they proceeded to carve into dinner.

~

     As interesting as dinner was, it wasn’t as interesting as after-dinner would be. Chamuco and Xibalba strolled along the outer walkway of the castle, the one that overshadowed La Muerte’s garden.

     “You seem on edge, Xibalba,” Chamuco observed. “It’s been barely two weeks. Trouble in paradise already?”

     “What? No,” the dark god retorted immediately. “We’re totally fine.”

     “Maybe she’s fine. But it’s obvious you’re not.” He leaned on the stone railing of the walkway and rested his arms comfortably. “What’s on your mind, _manito_?”

     “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” Xibalba complained.

     “I only get to see you once every so often. I might as well make it worth both of our time.”

     Xibalba sighed and leaned back on a pillar, crossing his arms and appearing uninterested.

     “Not too long ago, she talked about…” His eyes flattened and so did his tone. “Children.”

     “Children?”

     “Yeah. About how much she wants children.”

     “Has she been…asking you about this?”

     “No. She said it once and then I’ve been reading her mind since.”

     Chamuco’s face twisted in confusion. “And what are your thoughts on this?”

     “Thoughts? What thoughts?” Xibalba snorted. “I have no thoughts.”

     “Oh like that’s a surprise,” Chamuco laughed. Xibalba was highly unamused. “Come on, you seriously have no idea how to talk to her about this?”

     “If I did, do you think it’d be talking to you right now?”

     Chamuco placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, Xibalba. We’re all adults here…more or less. Think of it from your wife’s point of view. She’s ready to move forward and do something new. And you have to be very clear if you’re on the same page. Because if not, you two are going to be very, very, _very_ , unhappy. Again.”

     Xibalba glanced at his older brother. “How would you know so much about this?”

     “Because La Noche and I have had the same conversation.”

     “…And?”

     “Does it look like we have little ones running around? _Aye dio mio_ , we aren’t ready for that. We don’t know if we’ll ever be. On top of it, do you really think either of our realms is ideal for raising an infant? At least if you and La Muerte had a child, it’d have the luxuries of the Land of the Remembered to live on.”

     Xibalba nodded slightly and gave his brother a thankful look. “ _Gracias, hermano.”_

Chamuco smiled in return. “You’ll work out. She’s a good woman.”

~

     The twin sisters rested in La Muerte’s bedroom. La Noche was leaning back on the railing on the bedroom balcony with open doors, holding a typical comfortable pose. La Muerte flopped on her soft mattress, splaying herself out like she did when they were children. The two goddesses glanced at one another at the same time, and a tension filled the air that was sharp enough to be cut with a knife. La Muerte couldn’t explain it, because there was no anger or jealously, just a lack of things to say.

     La Noche took a breath and broke the silence. “So how are things between you and Xibalba? Truly?”

     La Muerte sat up slightly and sighed. “We’re absolutely fine. I love having him back…except that… I feel like there’s something missing.”

     “From him?”

     “No…” the red goddess shook her head slightly. “Just… in our lives. I talked to him about it… he’s completely unresponsive. I don’t know how to approach him.”

     “Let me guess. Is it a baby?”

     La Muerte peered up at her twin with wide eyes. “How did you guess?”

     La Noche opened her mouth to speak, but appeared to choke up a little. Her eyes softened to a sort of sadness that La Muerte had never seen within her sister, a sadness and a worry. She swallowed nervously.

     “Chamuco and I had a similar talk some time ago. We agreed not to have children. We were both fine with it. But…”

     She stepped back in from the balcony and shut the door. She quickly pulled up a chair from the small table in the bedroom and sat down in it. She bit the inner corners of her lips and sighed shakily. Within seconds, La Noche couldn’t take it anymore. Her hands flew to cover her eyes and she began to sob.

     La Muerte got up in shock and came over to her sister as quickly as she could. She reached for a chair hastily and sat next to her, grabbing her hands.

     “‘Che!” she whispered quietly. “What’s wrong?”

     “I haven’t told him yet,” Noche cried. “I haven’t told Chamuco. I don’t know how-“

     La Muerte wiped her sister’s tears. “Told him what, _hermana_?”

     “I’m pregnant…”

     La Noche collapsed into her sister’s arms and sobbed harder than La Muerte had ever seen her. La Muerte wrapped her arms tightly around her twin and rubbed her back comfortingly, trying to hide the fact that she was in complete shock.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am receiving amazing feedback from you people and I cannot tell you how thankful I am for everyone who is reading this fic. I hope I can use your advice to the best of my ability to not only make this fic more enjoyable, but to improve my writing skills. Once again, thank you so, so much!!!!


	4. Family Mathematics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Chamoche/BloodMoon couple have got some kinks to work out... you know... regarding a certain extra person coming into their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is a section of this that actually broke my heart while writing because it was emotionally intense. Things do get better, but prepare for some intense feels.

“Noche… I just can’t believe you’re going to have a baby.”

     La Muerte held her sister’s hands in her own as La Noche caught her breath and wiped the tears off round cheeks. Night was beginning to settle in the Land of the Remembered and the bedroom slowly darkened, only illuminated through a piece of the balcony door by the full moon. Neither of the goddesses had the effort to light any candles, nor did they feel it would be an appropriate time and place. They remained in the rosewood chairs facing one another. La Noche, weakened from crying so harshly, had the idea of moving to the bed, but not the strength nor the motivation.

     “The first sign was the morning sickness…” La Noche explained, her voice still slightly shaky. “I had gotten it when Chamuco was visiting the Land of the Cursed. It was weeks of torture… I was exhausted from constantly running back and forth anywhere. I summoned the court physician, thinking it was just a prolonged illness. He tested me for everything, and eventually came to the conclusion that I had to be pregnant. I had no way of telling Chamuco when he came home. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was too afraid. You know how he can be sometimes.”

     La Muerte rubbed the back of her hand comfortingly. “Would he really be this angry?”

     La Noche’s voice softened. “He would be afraid. He would never admit it, but he would be. He wouldn’t know what to do with the baby. Then he lashes out, so that no one can tell he’s afraid. I’ve seen it in him before, like when I had that intense fever I nearly died of. Half the castle’s right wing was almost destroyed and we had to replace two nurses. If I told him we were having a baby… _Aye_ … who knows how he’d react.”

     “How long have you been hiding it?”

     “I’m not even sure anymore, _hermana_ … I think it’ll be three months along by the end of this month.”

     La Muerte studied her sister quizzically and was in utter disbelief. A twinge of anger resonated in her voice.

     “You are due in six months and your husband has no clue? Do you think it’s a good idea for him to just _find out??_ ”

     “Sssh!” La Noche urged, grabbing La Muerte’s hands with a pleading expression. “They could hear us, Muertita!”

     She slunk into the back of her chair and crossed her arms over her abdomen, which revealed nothing yet of her pregnancy. La Noche inhaled deeply and felt her chest rise nervously. Her eyes met her sister’s.

     “I’ll tell him when we come home. You’re right. It’s better I tell him up front than him taking a look at me and coming to the conclusion.”

     Another fear overwhelmed the goddess; La Muerte noticed it with the distraction in her sad eyes and the biting of her inner lip. La Noche’s thin fingers curled around her own arms slightly tighter and she retreated into a slouch.

     “ _Aye dió_ , Muerte…” she whispered nervously. “What if he stops seeing me as beautiful? What if he won’t be able to stand the sight of me? What if-“ she could barely finish her sentence without breathing shallowly.

     La Muerte snatched her sister’s shoulders as if to slap her. “‘Che, he is a grown man who definitely should have his priorities straight by now.” She reached over and stroked Noche’s hair comfortingly. “I get the feeling he’ll step up to the challenge. He takes good care you, and he’ll take good care of his son or daughter.”

     La Noche didn’t respond, but La Muerte saw the slightest restoration of hope in her face. She wrapped her arms around her twin and hugged her tightly. Noche rested comfortably in her sister’s arms, knowing she had someone to confide in if something went wrong.

~

     After a few days’ visit, the rulers of the Land of the Unknown returned to their realm. El Chamuco relaxed at the first step into their bedroom, laying back onto their large bed amongst La Noche’s massive pillow collection. He half expected his wife to casually join him, but when she retreated to her marble vanity to stiffly brush out her hair, he knew something was wrong.

     “‘Che, darling,” he asked, sitting up slightly on the bed. “You’ve been quiet the entire rode. It’s completely unlike you.”

     “I’m alright, Chamuco,” the goddess responded, stroking her brush through her black locks. “I’m just a little tired.”

     Thoughts rummaged through her head. She was making excuses again. She was beyond afraid to tell him. If she continued to keep quiet, he would fall asleep, and she would have to put off the news ‘til the next day. And every day after would become harder and harder.

     Chamuco himself wasn’t having any of it. “Then come to bed, _Cielo_. Don’t even bother changing, as if it will matter.”

     La Noche gingerly set aside her hairbrush and stepped on over to the bed. She sat on the edge of it and looked away from her husband, biting the inner corner of her lip. Her heart pounded from all of the mixed emotions and the anticipation of his reaction. Yet, she had done riskier things that have gotten her in more trouble than this could. So why was she so afraid?

     “Chamuco,” she began quietly, turning back to the god. “I really, really need to talk to you about something.” She reached over and put a hand on his chest, more sincerely than teasingly. “Please, swear to me you’ll take everything I say seriously.”

     Chamuco rarely know his wife to be serious. It was unlike her to have such concerns. His wariness arose. “What’s going on, Noche?”

     He sat up and studied her, his eyes scanning every part of her and sensing that something was wrong. As he took one of her frail hands into his gigantic ones, La Noche felt slightly safer, but knew not to take the sensation for granted.

     She nearly stuttered. “I’m not good with words like you are. I’ll just say it.” She took in a deep breath, and Chamuco felt as her hand gripped his. “I’m pregnant, Chamuco.”

     Chamuco’s face twisted and his entire body glowed brighter, like a fire well fed with raging oxygen. His voice heightened in surprise. “You-…you’re…” She had never heard him stutter before. His tongue was always so perfectly elegant. “How long have you known??”

     “I found out while you were visiting your realm… I’m three months along.”

     Chamuco no longer felt just surprised. The roughness in his voice began to protrude.

     “You’ve known for over a month and you’ve kept it from me?”

     La Noche shrunk slightly and gasped as he ripped his hand away from hers.

     “Chamuco-you don’t under-“

     “Oh I don’t understand? My wife keeps her pregnancy from me but _I don’t understand?”_ He leapt off the bed and towered over her impulsively. His body illuminated the flames of his infamous anger; La Noche could feel the heat radiating off of him. He tossed his arms sharply. “What? Were you going to hide it until it was born? Was I going to find out then?”

     La Noche opened her mouth to speak, but no words flowed. She felt like bursting into tears. Instead, her eyebrows locked into a defensive stare and she bit the inside of her mouth. She took a deep breath to conceal her sadness.

     “You and I both know-“

     “Well, we do now,” he snarled, grabbing for his robe and tossing it over himself. She heard him murmuring curses under his breath, and he exited the room. The silver doorknob melted slightly at his hot touch, and he slammed the door shut behind him. The second he was gone, La Noche broke down into tears. She grabbed one of her favorite pillows and sobbed into it harder than she had sobbed into her sister, who she wished was here right now.

~

     The goddess hadn’t realized how many hours had gone into that night of her just lying formlessly on her bed. She clutched several different pillows while crying, and proceeded to stare aimlessly when she had calmed down. The door to the room creaked open, and she knew her husband had returned. She wanted to rush to him, grab him and embrace him. But she didn’t have the courage.

     Chamuco inched through the door. “‘Che?” She turned slowly and sat up. Their eyes met, hers like moon and his like the sun. In an instant, La Noche noticed that his were bursting with remorse and begging for forgiveness. She always admired that about him, his ability to apologize. He knelt by the bedside and his wings hung lower. He reached for her hand but wouldn’t take it without her advanced.

     “ _Mi Cielo_ ,” he whispered. “I am so, so sorry…”

     She reached down lowly and touched his cheek as her eyes filled with tears. “I wish I told you earlier… I just know that you and I… we didn’t plan on having children.”

     “If everything we did was planned, I don’t think I’d love you as much as I do. I shouldn’t have backlashed.” He placed his hand over the one she kept on his cheek. “I can’t be doing that if we’re going to have a child in the house.”

     He stood up slowly to sit on the bed, but La Noche practically threw herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed her head into his chest. Chamuco’s arms and wings closed around his wife and he embraced her as gently as he could, the way she deserved. The goddess peered up at her husband.

     “Our future ‘plus one’ is going to love you. He or she is going to love you just as much as I do.”

     He chuckled and spread his long fingers over her abdomen, which sent happy shivers throughout her entire body. “I sure hope so.”


	5. Chivalry at its Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Centered around Gravepainters with some Chamoche interlude. Xibalba finally answers for his silence on the topic of children, all the same while getting a lesson from his older brother on the treatment of women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I wrote while I was away on the weekend pilgrimage retreat, so it is slightly longer than any of the other chapters. Personally, I think this is my favorite one to date, because I had hand-written the first draft, and made some edits when I was typing it up, so I think that writing-wise it's the best, but I do love it content-wise. I hope you all enjoy! Already begun pre-writing the next installment!!!

     His long, thin fingers slipped from her curvaceous waist as she spun to the tempo of the music. Her thick hair swayed and her red dressed ruffled with her graceful motions. They met again in the center of the illuminated ballroom, his one hand intertwining with her fingers and the other expertly sliding on her lower back. Her leg slid forward and she dipped back, dropping her weight into his arm and trusting he’d hold her. Her eyes glowed as she looked into his. He smirked and his black wings flared.

     “You definitely haven’t lost your touch, _Muertita_.”

     She giggled and her lifted her upright, kissing her hand.

     “I had forgotten you danced so well, Balbi,” she blushed.

     “The tango has always been my specialty, _mi amór_ ,” he replied, snapping his fingers. The needle on the record player slid off the record and the music stopped. She took him by the arm and they exited the ballroom, a place in their home that had primarily collected dust until now.

     “Any recent word from your sister?” Xibalba asked, mostly out of sheer politeness.

     “It’ll be four months she’s along now,” La Muerte thought, remembering the contents of the last letter she received. “She’s begun to show, apparently, and a bit much too. She keeps joking about Chamuco being completely infatuated by her.”

     “I can only imagine the amount of bluff going into that letter.”

     La Muerte slapped his arm lightly and flashed him a disapproving face. “Be nice. You can they’re both extremely happy. They’re excited for this baby.”

     They entered La Muerte’s favorite place in the castle, the garden. She leaned on her husband’s upper arm and wandered around while the sun set over the Land of the Remembered.

     “I still can’t imagine an infant version of Chamuco,” Xibalba murmured. “She’s going to _have_ the baby and I still won’t believe it.”

     “It’s our future niece or nephew,” La Muerte reminded him. “And they’ll be visiting much more from now on. Get used it.”

     Xibalba rolled his red eyes and she kissed his cheek with a slight giggle. She stopped walking when they reached the rose garden, her most coveted area in the entire garden. She leaned on him and closed her eyes serenly as she placed her hands on his broad chest. Xibalba put his arms around her and peered down at his wife.

     “ _Aye Balbi_ ,” she said blissfully. “Come on, let’s have a baby…”

     Xibalba’s eyes cracked open suddenly and he made a worried face.

     “ _Muertita_ , my dear,” he said. “Is now really the best time to discuss this?”

     “What’s to discuss?” she asked a little darkly. “And if you want to discuss, now’s a good a time as any.”

     She pulled away and peered up at him. She noticed him hunch over a little, like he always did when he was nervous.

     “Are you sure we’re ready kid, dear?” he asked, flexing his fingers. “I mean, I’m doubt I’m close to being ‘father-material’.”

     La Muerte crossed her arms. “Xibalba, you are a grown man. When are you going to ‘be ready’? In another three centuries?”

     “No! I mean-…can’t we at least wait until Noche and Chamuco have theirs? Just to see what it’s like?”

     The candles on La Muerte’s hat flared up a little. “Xibalba! You are no child!” she cried out, tossing her hands in the air. “Stop using your brother as a shadow!” She nearly snarled. “You can’t take me seriously! Ever! Stop being such a coward!”

     It was his least favorite word. “Coward”. He wasn’t sure is she knew it, but it twisted within him. He even felt his blood curl at the very sound. Internally, he snapped, and his face twisted into a snarl instantly.

     “Oh! Alright!” he retorted. “If I’m such a coward, why haven’t you found yourself a new husband while I was tossed down to that horrid realm? It seemed fitting, didn’t it? Why wait centuries for your trash, coward husband?”

     La Muerte recognized the severity of her initial wrds, but the severity of his pierced her like a thousand arrows all at once. She quieted down and her eyes softened into a deep sadness.

     “I didn’t find another husband because I had faith in you, Xibalba. I had faith in your since the day we met.” She sniffled and blinked backed tears. “I guess I was wrong. Again.”

     She turned sharply and hastily left the garden, throwing her face into her hands the moment she was out of sight. Xibalba froze and realized his wrong-doing. He stared blankly at the exit, contemplating whether he should follow her or not. But, unlike is older brother, Xibalba had severe problems with one specific thing.

     Apologizing.

~~

     “Chamuco! Stop it!” La Noche laughed hysterically.

     If there’s one thing that was as evident as the bump in her abdomen, it was that La Noche’s sensitivity had skyrocketed. To some extent, El Chamuco took pleasant advantage of this. His long fingers tickled her sides and she cringed uncontrollably, trying to move away from him on their bed. She caught little breaths between her laughter until she couldn’t take it anymore and threw herself at him. He fell onto his back amongst her hoard of pillows and she landed on top of him, her head falling on his chest. His constant grin turned into deep laugh and he cuddled with his strong arms. La Noche’s laughs died into bubbly giggles and she placed a sporadic kiss on his cheek. He wantd to hold her there for as long as possible, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

     “My lady!” a servant’s voice called. “The carpenter has arrived with the rest of the construction crew.”

     “Oh good!” La Noche sprung up quickly an pulled on her day robe, tying the belt over her stomach. El Chamuco sat up and his fiery wings dropped slightly. He studied her quizzically.

     “You called a carpenter?” he asked. “What for?”

     “We’ve got to start building the baby’s room!” she explained with an arm gesture. “Obviously, Chamuco. What else for?”

     She hurried out the door and the god followed her closely behind, in an effort to make sure she didn’t possibly trip and hurt herself. They went down the hall into the room they had cleared out, the one designated for the baby’s nursery. All of the designers, contractors and carpenters were already waiting for the expectant parents.

     La Noche came into the blank room with her arms crossed over her tummy. Chamuco placed a comforting arm on her back.

     “Well, ‘Che?” he asked. “What do you think? Is it a good space?”

     She took several glances around the room and frowned disapprovingly, raising an arm to ward him off.

     “It’s way too small.” She sharply turned to her husband. “We need to build a new castle. Pronto.”

     Everyone in the room fell ridiculously silent, especially Chamuco.

     “Darling,” he nervously began. “This room is almost the size of our bedroom. And the bedroom is the biggest non-hall room in this entire building. There’s truly no need to build a new castle… this will make a huge nursery.”

     “How are the baby and I supposed to feel comfortable in such space??”

     The workers and servants all stared at Chamuco, their eyes nervously begging for a solution. The god reached forward and took his wife’s hand delicately.

     “ _Mi Cielo_ , another palace isn’t practical.” His voice softened. “In no way would you be comfortable going back and forth between two if them.” He rubbed her arm lightly. “I did read that the post-partum period is one of the most exhausting times of a woman’s life. You shouldn’t make it any harder on yourself than it already will be.”

     La Noche looked him in the eyes and made a face, but spoke softly. “What do you mean, you ‘read’?”

     Chamuco shrugged lightly. “I thought it was customary to do some research. We have a huge library for a reason, and I’m partly responsible for your health as well as the child’s. I’m just trying to do the best I can.”

     La Noche’s eyes nearly glistened and she sighed accordingly. “Very well, we’ll use the room.’”

     There was a collective breath of relief.

     “But everything better be pink.”

     Chamuco raised an eyebrow. “Why?!”

     “Because obviously, the baby is a girl.”

     “We don’t know that!”

     “Mother’s intuition, Chamuco!”

     Chamuco, slightly exasperated, opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a servant.

     “My lord, your brother is here.”

     El Chamuco and La Noche exchanged confused looks, but the god walked to the main hall to greet Xibalba, who was casually picking at the grape bowl on the center table.

     “Was I interrupting something?” he asked.

     “Oh I wish I could say ‘no’,” Chamuco murmured, coming over. “What are you doing here, Xibalba? Trouble in paradise?”

     Xibalba glanced at his older brother. “How’d you guess?”

     Chamuco gingerly sat down in a velvet lined chair at the table and reached for the grape bowl himself.

     “Because we’ve talked about before.” He tossed a grape into his mouth. “And frankly, I doubt you’d come to me with anything else. Tell me what happened.”

     Chamuco listened intently to his brother’s story, but wasn’t the least bit surprised by the outcome.

     “You couldn’t just grab her and say ‘I’m sorry’?” He shook his head. “I can see she upset you but that was NOT called for!”

     “I was trying to have a normal conversation! I don’t have anything to apologize for!”

     “Now that’s where you’re wrong,” Chamuco stood. “You made a mistake and you better own up to it. We used to be knights, brother. That’s how we were raised. Do you remember nothing of chivalry? How we’re supposed to treat and respect a woman? I understand you’ve made that mistake centuries ago. I would think you wouldn’t make the same mistake again. You owe her for-“

     “CHAMUCO!”

     La Noce screamed at the top of her lungs from upstairs. Obviously the baby’s room was of utmost importance The older brother pointed at his younger one.

     “Treat your woman right. She’s your wife. She never had to say ‘yes’ to your marriage proposal, but she did, and you better treat her right for it. Because you know what really makes you a coward here. You can’t swallow your ridiculously inflated pride.”

     “CHAMUCO, GET UP HERE OR I WILL-“

     “I’m coming, _Cielo_!” he called back, swiftly turning and leaving with one last glance at his younger brother.

~~

     La Muerte watched over her festive realm from the front balcony on the last floor of her majestic castle. She leaned on the whimsical, red railing, her head propped up on her hand. She watched the dead dance, and thought of how Xibalba had tangoed with her just this morning. She knew he had passion and she knew that he loved her. Sometimes he was just an irrational child, though.

     The queen sighed heavily and recalled their argument. His words stung he, but in part, she regretted her attitude all the same. She balled up her fists, and a twinge of jealously came over her. Her thoughts turned to her twin sister, who could now brag endlessly of being constantly coddled by her own husband. She thought of the two of them experimenting with names, arguing genuinely over nursery furniture, and watching La Noche’s belly grow with daily anticipation until she held the child in her arms. A perfect little copy of her and Chamuco. Another thing to love. She wanted that for herself and Xibalba, and it stung to imagine that he might not want the same.

     “ _Muertita_?” she heard from behind. She turned to find Xibalba standing quietly at the threshold of the balcony doors, approaching her slowly. She found herself meeting him halfway.

     “I’m so sorry, my love,” he said, hushed, taking her hands gently. “What I said was…ridiculously stupid.”

     La Muerte glanced down at their hands, and then into her husband’s eyes.

     “I’m at fault too, Balbi,” she sighed. “I…I overreacted.”

     She looked away for a second and took a breath. Xibalba turned her face back to him with a finger lightly on her cheek. She bit her lip.

     “Sometimes…I just…” she began. “Sometimes I wonder if you love me enough to have a baby with me.”

“ _Mi amór_ , of course I do!” he replied quickly. His voiced softened a bit and he pulled his hands away. “The thing is, I’m not sure if I like _myself_ enough to have a baby with you.”

La Muerte reached up and touched his cheek. “What are you saying?”

“The baby would have an amazing mother,” he replied quietly. “It would just have a terrible father.”

She nearly felt herself tear up at his words, sensing the honesty and the fear in his eyes as he said them. She quickly pulled herself up and kissed him softly.

“Aye Balbi… You’d be a wonderful father. What would make you think otherwise?”

He gave a grave, disheartened chuckle. “I’m not exactly the most loving and genuine of people, let alone good with children.”

She flashed him a somber smile. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit. If you were truly as bad as you think you are, I wouldn’t have waited for you.” She reached behind and stroked his right wing bone. “I told you, I have faith in you. I meant that.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled herself into his chest. Xibalba nearly melted at her touch. She kissed his lower cheek.

“Balbi, I’ll make you a wager.”

“A wager?”

She reached up and took his long face in her delicate hands. “I wager that you are good with kids. That you aren’t as unloving as you think you are. And if I win…we’ll have a baby.”

“And if I’m not? If you lose?”

“It’s simple, we won’t.”

Xibalba looked down at his wife. “It’s a very generic wager, my dear.”

“It is a wager anyhow, Xibalba,” she smiled a bit. “And if it truly isn’t meant to be… I’ll love you nonetheless for the rest of time.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “I hope I can be as good to you as you are to me, _Muertita_. I love you, too.”

His wings flared up to cover the setting sun as she kissed him again.


	6. The Power of Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feature on La Noche while Chamuco is away on a trip to the Land of the Cursed. More interaction between her and the Gravepainter couple, as well as a sweet ending with a twist! Dives a bit more into the death of Chamuco's character as well towards the end, hopefully shedding some more light on how I'm trying to characterize him without breaking his essence.  
> *THIS CHAPTER IS UPDATED, THIS IS THE 2.0 VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER. YOU DIDN'T MISS MUCH IF YOU READ THE FIRST ONE, I THINK THIS ONE IS WAY BETTER.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies, here's just a quick note. I may or may not be uploading chapters as frequently in the upcoming weeks, because school starts for me in early September. I am going to be a senior in high school and I will be applying and auditioning for college soon. For those who don't know, I am an opera major in high school and want to continue that in college, so applying for college involves pre-screenings and traveling to auditions, which takes a lot of time. I do not want to abandon this fic, because I love it, but updates will be less frequent! I'm so sorry! But please enjoy!

“I cannot believe we agreed to this,” Xibalba scoffed, flaring his wings in slight exasperation. “In fact, I don’t think _I_ agreed to this in the first place!”

     “ _Aye!_ ” La Muerte slapped her husband’s shoulder roughly as they strode up to the entrance of La Noche’s castle. “I told my sister we would help her with whatever she needed while Chamuco was away. She called us here and even invited us to stay for dinner. So here we are.”

     “Chamuco’s not even going to be gone for that long,” the god snorted, rolling his skull red eyes. “What kind of business is there to take care of in the Land of the Cursed anyway? If someone causes trouble he sets them on fire. That’s that.”

     La Muerte stopped walking and rested her hands on her curvy hips, flashing him an unsatisfied smirk. “Xibalba, if you won’t do it for La Noche at least think of it as helping out your older brother.”

     “Oh yes, because _that’ll_ make me want to do this even more.”

     The sugar goddess scoffed in disbelief and turned on her heels towards the large door. She gingerly knocked on in, and to her surprise, was greeted not by the usual doorman, but by La Noche herself. Instantly her frown vanished from her face and she squealed at the sight of her sister. The two of them embraced each other, being as careful as possible given the new obstacle in the way.

     “ _Aye dios!_ ” La Noche cried out. “It’s so good to see you, _hermana!_ ”

     “And you!” La Muerte pulled back, but she continued to hold her sister’s arms affectionately. She glanced at her from head to toe. “Wow…look at you, you look…”

     “Fat?” La Noche laughed uproariously. “Believe me, sis, my closet’s made me well aware. At least I have a talented seamstress.”

     La Muerte jokingly rolled her eyes with a light giggle. “I was going to say ‘great’, you know. But now that you mention it, aren’t you a little big for six months?”

     La Noche’s mouth cracked a sarcastic grin and she crossed her arms. “You know sister, if you haven’t forgotten, we’re _gods_ , and we’re probably a little different from humans in that respect. My court physician says I’m perfectly fine.”

     “Has your court physician ever treated a pregnant goddess?”

     “There hasn’t been one for centuries, who’s to treat? Relax, I’m totally alright.”

     La Noche broke off the conversation and waved to Xibalba, who was standing gingerly behind his wife and examining the details on the door out of boredom while the two women had been chatting away. As her gesture caught his eye, he greeted her back, but found himself studying her changes. She had put on a bit of weight, but just barely. He wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention. Her breasts had begun to fill out and so had her hips; he was certain Chamuco was enjoying it as much as possible. The twins were both notoriously famous for their wonderful hips, and the brothers found it just ridiculously sexy. Chamuco was getting a bonus at this point.

     La Noche grasped at her sister’s hands. “You have to see what’s been done so far,” she urged. “Chamuco will… _most likely_ hate me for it when he gets back, but as if that matters.”

     Xibalba’s eyebrow lifted in utmost confusion. “He’s been gone for barely four days, how much could you have possibly done without him seeing?”

“You’ll see!”

The expectant mother cracked a loud laugh and led the pair upstairs to the nursery, which had gone through extreme renovations. Although it was still a work in progress, La Noche had taken the four days of being alone to her advantage and made her vision a reality. When Xibalba laid his eyes on the interior, he nearly felt like ripping them out.

“ _Aye…_ I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink in my entire life…”

“There’s a first time for everything, ey, Xibalba?” La Noche retorted. Truly, the majority of the room was pink. Three of the four walls were a cotton candy pink, while the final one was a snow white. The furniture was much the same, mostly pink with the exception of a few white accents. It screamed “little baby girl” so loudly Xibalba swore he nearly heard it.

“Chamuco is definitely not going to be okay with this,” Xibalba muttered. “If I see more pink I’ll probably barf.”

“Chamuco,” La Noche pointed out. “Is not the one carrying the baby for nine months.”

“Are you this certain it’s a girl, Noche?” La Muerte asked with a hint of concern. “What if it turns out the baby is a boy?”

“Of course I’m certain,” she replied, tossing a humongous pile of knitted onesies, bonnets and booties off a white rocking chair and sitting back comfortably onto the pink velvet cushion. La Muerte picked up one to take a closer look at it.

” _Hermana_ … how many of these did you make?”

La Noche shrugged. “Truth be told, I completely lost count. Chamuco barely lets me do anything fun anymore and it’s ridiculously frustrating so I’m going to take my time and do _something_ productive.” She intertwined her hands over her belly. “Its way more calming than I thought it would be, maybe more numbing than anything else. You should definitely take it back up. You used to be really good at it, remember?”

“Yeah, back when Mama used to teach us,” La Muerte chuckled lightly. “I was way better than you.”

“That’s because we did it for no reason! Now I have a reason!”

Xibalba grimaced slightly. “So… are you two just going to keep arguing over baby clothes…? Because, no offense, I don’t think I came here for-”

La Muerte reached behind him and placed a finger at the top of his spine and dragged it down lightly, calming and quieting her husband while remind him of his manners. She knew his spine and his wing bones were his most intimate weakness, where she could take full control of him. “Well, ‘Che? What can we help you with?”

“Right!” La Noche smiled and reached below the rocking chair as best as she could, pulling out a scroll. As she unrolled it, the paper traveled between Xibalba and La Muerte, down the floor of the room, and finished unraveling nearly by the wall.

     “Grab a seat and get comfortable,” she said, twirling a quill between her delicate fingers. “I’m sick and tired of knitting for now; we’re going through baby names!”

     La Muerte couldn’t help but giggle when Xibalba flashed her a death glare.

~~

     Inevitably, Xibalba fell asleep on the cotton-candy couch, amongst the copious animals, pillows and baby clothes. Subconsciously, he thought it was more comfortable than he would like to admit. With his snoring in the background, the two sisters sat next to one another, drinking hot tea. La Muerte would’ve preferred a tall glass of wine, but out of respect for her sister, chose not to ask.

     La Noche stared intently at the scroll, which was now full of red marks to cross off the baby names she had decided against. She wrote a shorter list up at the top for her and La Muerte to review; consisting of a few names she couldn’t decide on.

     “So we have Sacniete, Ixazaluoh, Colel, Itzel and Akna,” she read, leaning back in her chair.

     “Honestly,” La Muerte chimed in. “Sacniete and Ixazaluoh are going to take Chamuco years to learn to pronounce before he gets it right.” She laughed a little. “He’s…he’s not the best when it comes to that.”

     “Okay you’re right,” the sister admitted. “Even your husband has a better time with indigenous names than mine. So we have Itzel, Akna and Colel.”

     La Muerte pondered a bit. “I remember Papá saying something about the name Itzel a long time ago, back when we were children.”

     “Oh right…” La Noche thought back as best as she could, crossing her legs uncomfortably. “Weren’t him and Mama thinking of having another baby?”

     “I doubt it; I don’t think they would’ve been able to handle more than us.” La Muerte laughed. “I think it was supposed to go to one of us if we weren’t twins. He always said it was one of the most beautiful names he’s ever heard. Something to do with poetry and art…”

     La Noche glanced over at her sister with a somber look. She thought of their parents, placing her hand over her stomach. She knew that they were created rather than carried, but their parents were amazing nonetheless, especially their father. She thought of the years she had spent not talking to them, and instantly felt the need to see them again. They probably weren’t even aware that they had a grandchild on the way.

     “You know what,” she said. “Forget the other names, I like Itzel. And I think Chamuco will too.”

     La Muerte smiled at her sister encouragingly. “It sounds perfect.”

     The sisters exchanged happy faces, but in the moment of silence, Xibalba’s snores in the background seemed to be amplified. The two peeked back at him and giggled.

     “How long has he been out?” La Noche asked.

     “I have no idea,” La Muerte replied. “Although, it is a portrait-worthy moment. Call the painters.”

     La Noche laughed. “Have you two worked out the baby situation yet, _hermana_?”

     La Muerte relaxed into her chair a little bit and glanced behind at her husband. “I think he’s got the potential to be a great father. He just doesn’t see it yet… I hope he will soon.”

     Although her face looked hopeful, her tone was discouraged. La Noche reached forward and took her hand. “Listen, Muerte, you know that Chamuco himself had a hard time coming to terms with being a father because he had no choice, no more than I did. Frankly, I was afraid for a moment he was going to leave me. But…” she sighed, almost happily. “I can tell he loves this baby. He loves her and he loves me and I literally cannot imagine our lives without her in it anymore. We both want to hold her in our arms so badly and we can’t wait until she’s here. Xibalba… he loves you, La Muerte. It’s _so_ evident, even if he doesn’t want it to be. He loves everything about you. If you’re going to have a baby, it’ll be a part of you. And he’s going to love that little thing like hell. Because that’s the kind of man he is. He might not even realize it yet. But I think… if _I_ could come to terms with loving a child, he definitely can too.”

     Without their knowledge, Xibalba had cracked awake at the beginning of their conversation, only after hearing his wife’s tone travel sadly though the air. It concerned him, but after he could make out the context, he dared not move. He quietly listened, especially when he heard the glimmer of hope in La Muerte’s voice.

     “I’m glad you see it too, _hermana_. I just want that man to know he has nothing to be afraid of.”

     La Noche chuckled and rubbed the side of her belly. “Not to mention, a baby moving under you is the _greatest_ feeling ever. At least I think so. Every time Chamuco feels her move he _loses_ it and practically melts like a dog.”

     “Can I?”

     “Absolutely!”

     La Noche guided her sister’s hand towards her abdomen and pressed it against where the baby was moving. La Muerte relaxed her hand and made a face as she felt a tiny slide right beneath her. It was subtle, nothing intense. She giggled slightly.

     “This doesn’t feel weird to you at all?” she asked.

     “Oh I’m so used to it,” La Noche responded. “But if she’s this active, I’ve learned that it’s usually linked to me being hungry.”

     “Are you? How come you didn’t say anything!”

     “Because I wasn’t thinking about it until now!” La Noche laughed. “Dumb moods come over you when you’re pregnant, sister. But if dinner’s calling, you might as well answer!” She propped her hands on the armrests of her rocking chair and pushed herself up. La Muerte took her arm and smiled, peeking back at her husband, who she assumed was still asleep. Taking a random stuffed animal, she tossed it at him, and hit him square in the face. He sat up suddenly, jerking his head up and looking around the room in confusion. He had to keep up the appearance of just waking up.

     “Come on dear,” she coaxed. “We’re heading down for dinner.”

     “Oh good,” he replied, flexing his wings and stretching his arms as he followed them to the dining hall.

     “So when does Chamuco come back, exactly?” Xibalba asked. “I wouldn’t think it like him to leave you alone for so long.”

     “He’ll be back by the end of the week, it’ll only have been a week-long trip”, she replied, massaging the side of her stomach lightly. “He said he might even be home earlier, but somehow I doubt he’ll get everything settled in time.”

     “Sounds like you barely miss him,” La Muerte joked lightly.

     “Of course I miss him,” she replied, a little defensively. “How would you feel if your husband went away for so long?”

     La Muerte and Xibalba both felt themselves tighten a little uncomfortably, glancing at each other with awkward eyes. They turned to La Noche, and while the god was biting his tongue roughly to keep quiet, the goddess eyed her somberly. Suddenly, she realized her mistake.

     “Oh! I’m so sorry!” she called out, covering her mouth. “Honest mistake, really!”

     “Think nothing of it, _hermana_ ,” La Muerte assured stiffly. Xibalba said nothing, because he had nothing nice to say.

~~

     “You know, ‘Che?” La Muerte stated. “These plantain chips are phenomenal.”

     “I know, right? I’ve been having the cooks make them since I first tried them. I just keep wanting them.”

     La Noche leaned back into her dining room chair. “This little one loves them. She rubbed the top of her belly, partly to calm down the baby, and partly because she was full from dinner.

     “Alright,” Xibalba spoke up. “I’ll admit. Dinner was fantastic. But, it’s getting late.”

     La Muerte patted her husband’s hand. “He’s right, ‘Che, we should be heading out.”

     “Thank you so much for coming, you two,” La Noche said wholeheartedly. She stood up and embraced her sister as best as she could, and then turned to Xibalba and held out her arms.

     “Come on Balbi,” she teased with a light smile. “One hug.”

     He crossed his arms. “No.”

     “Stop being so bitter, mister.” She flexed her fingers. “One?”

     He rolled his eyes and skulked over. She hugged him first, and he reluctantly returned the gesture. Suddenly he felt a squirm in between them and pulled back quickly.

     “What was that??”

     La Noche laughed. “Relax, Xibalba. The baby moved, that’s all.”

     He raised an eyebrow. “That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever felt.”

     “Well if that’s the case, imagine carrying it.”

     He looked at her curiously and nodded after a few seconds. She led them both towards the door and exchanged one last hug with La Muerte.

     “Thanks for that, sister,” La Muerte whispered into her ear with a satisfied grin.

     La Noche smiled back slyly and patted her back. “No problem, _hermana._ ”

     As her company left, La Noche closed the door to her castle and gazed to the emptiness of the main hall. The servants had all finished their errands and there was no business of any sort left now that evening had fallen. The goddess sadly retreated back to her chambers and prepared for bed. As she lied down in her hoard of pillows with the lights off and clutched the sheets tightly, hoping she could smell even a bit of Chamuco in them. Seeing her sister and her husband together, even casually, reminded her of how much she really missed him. She felt the child move beneath her. Strangely, it felt different than before. It seemed like the child was pushing behind the top of her stomach, but La Noche assumed it was just from the position she was laying down in. She massaged the area right below her diaphragm and sighed.

     “You probably miss your _papá_ , don’t you, _mija?_ ” she muttered quietly. “I do too. He’ll be home in three days, sweetie. I’m sure when he comes home he’ll give us all the time in the world.”

~~

     La Noche nearly felt her heart drop when she heard the door to the castle slam open on the seventh day. She immediately tossed aside her knitting and fled downstairs from her bedroom as fast her swollen feet could carry her. She couldn’t remember a time where she was more excited for her husband’s return. As she came to the top of the stairs in the great hall, her eyes stung with happy tears.

     El Chamuco stood tall, covered in his fiery armor as usual. He looked exhausted from his trip, but his eyes instantly lit up when he caught sight of his wife. Seconds later, she was pressed into his arms.

     “Oh _mi Cielo_ …” he whispered into her ear.

     “ _Mi Sol…_ ” she nearly cried. “I missed you so much. This was the worst week of my entire life.”

     He removed the clawed gauntlets from his hands and ran his fingers through her hair.

     “I’ve been away for much longer than this, before, _mi amòr_ ,” he chuckled lightly.

     She wouldn’t let him go. “I don’t care. This week was the worst. The absolute worst. Don’t tell me otherwise or I’ll smack you.”

     He laughed. “Well I’m here now, ‘Che.” He pulled away only slightly to examine his wife with a smile. “You’ve grown.”

     La Noche crossed her arms. “So that’s the first thing you’ve noticed?”

     “It’s an important thing to notice if you ask me.” He smiled and kissed her forehead, placing a bare hand over her bump. “So how is our little girl?”

     She smiled genuinely and touched his hand. “Well she’s definitely more than happy to have her _papá_ home. And while La Muerte was over, we went through some of the names. I think I picked one that you’re really going to like.”

     El Chamuco scooped up his wife in his big arms. “Really? Let’s hear it.”

     “Itzel,” she said with a bright smile. The way the name rolled off her tongue was like music to his ears. “It was a favorite of my father’s, but it’s a name for a strong girl. One who has the strength to make it through tough times.” She rested her head on his broad chest and curled up against his arm body. “If she’s coming from us, I think she deserves a name like that.”

     “Itzel…” he repeated, attempting to copy her pronunciation. She giggled and peered up at him.

     “It’s a closed ‘e’ in the beginning and an open one towards the end. And try to flex the ‘z’ more. ‘Itzel’…”

     He rolled his eyes lightly and tried again, playing with the way the letters rolled out from the tip of his tongue. He said it near-perfectly the third time, and La Noche just kissed him out of sheer joy.

     “I love it,” he added after pulling away. “It’s the perfect name for our little princess.”

     “I thought you’d love it,” she smiled, stroking his cheek. “Let’s go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

     He nodded in agreement and carried her up to their chamber. He quickly hid away his set of armor, the most valuable set he had, and changed into sleepwear, although La Noche protested. She preferred that he just come to be without clothes altogether.

     As the two of them lied down, Chamuco wrapped an arm over her. She laid with her back to him, but pressed closely against his body. His arm gave her comfort, and his hand gently rested on her stomach.

     “It’s good to be home, _mi Cielo_.” He breathed into her ear. She smiled serenely and snuggled into his embrace.

~~

     “Chamuco. Chamuco wake up.”

     El Chamuco awoke to the coaxing voice of his wife. She was sitting upright in bed, her hand pressed firmly on the top of her stomach. She had a worried look that even sent chills through him.

     “‘Che?” he asked, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

     “I think something’s wrong…” she took in a breath. “She’s moving in a funny way… I don’t know what’s happening.”

     “Does it hurt?”

     “No-it just-“ suddenly she took in a sharp breath. “She just kicked. She’s not supposed to kick there…” She gazed up at her husband frightfully. “Chamuco…”

     Without a second thought, Chamuco scooped up his wife in his arms and carried her to the room of the court physician. Upon arriving, the good doctor, who was a welcomed guest in their home during the rest of La Noche’s pregnancy, forced the god to remain outside of the examination room, taking only his wife. It was customary to keep the privacy of the mother and the doctor between one another, and Chamuco observed it. But with every passing second, the urge to tear the door down grew stronger.

     Tension intensified in the silence that shot around the castle. There was little commotion, but Chamuco doubted that he had ever been so nervous in his entire life. Indistinguishable murmurs came from inside, followed by an incredibly dramatic gasp, a trademark of La Noche’s. He felt his heart sink. Had they lost the baby? Had something gone wrong?

     The door opened slowly, and he didn’t know if he could pull himself to bear the horrible news that was about to come. But to his surprise, La Noche threw herself at him and the most energetic hug he had seen in ages. Small tear lines stained her cheeks, but were overpowered by a gigantic smile.

     “Chamuco!” she cried. “I have great news…”

     “Great news??” He was puzzled. “She’s okay?”

     “ _They’re_ okay,” she grinned brightly, peering into his eyes. “It’s twins, Chamuco. I’m having twins.”

Chamuco’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor and he immediately glanced at the court physician. “How can you tell? What was happening?”

     “First off,” the doctor began. “I should’ve performed an aura scan much earlier in her pregnancy. Somehow I thought it’d be too risky to do, since there were some incidents with the ancient physicians using too much pressure when reading fetal auras, but in all my suspicions, I figured this would be the only way to-“

     “Just go on.”

     “The unfamiliar movement was the child finally stretching. I saw it immediately when I scanned her, I saw the reflection of two children instead of one. She’s also confirmed that she has a more similar pregnancy to a human’s than we thought. I mean, we were all idiots, pardon my language, not to think she was too big to be carrying just one child.”

     La Noche made a face but Chamuco rubbed her arm comfortingly and continued to listen.

     “The rest, including her sensitivities, blood circulation, cravings… it jut connects to having multiples. She had three distinctive auras that confirmed it, my lord.”

     He couldn’t believe it. “And the genders? Could the aura reading tell the genders?”

     “Absolutely. The fetus in the front is a girl, and the one in the back is a boy. You’re having one of each.”

     He glanced down at his wife, whose face was beaming as radiantly as ever. La Noche herself recognized the flames within her husband burn brighter out of excitement, and she saw the pride in his eyes at the mention of a boy, a son. She took his face in his hands and kissed him excitedly, but even as he tried to keep her in his arms, she pulled back and her face twisted.

     “ _Mi Ciel_ o _,”_ he asked. “What’s wrong?”

     She frowned and crossed her arms over her belly. “Now we’re going to have to redo the entire nursery.”


	7. Aztec Sacrifices and Other "Guy Things"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xibalba gets a fanboy. I'm honestly too tired to think of a better summary. This chapter was fun to right though.

** Aztec Sacrifice and Other “Guy Things” **

     Some days, La Muerte figured that she needed to slip away from her responsibilities as a goddess and just relax.

Today was one of those days.

She snatched fresh fruit, sandwiches, and some sweets from the castle kitchen while the staff was rambling about, and she snuck it into a colorful basket along with a blanket she had kept from childhood. Xibalba didn’t need much persuasion to join her, since he was notorious for slacking at his godly duties anyway. The phrase “peace and quiet” was one of his favorites. With that, the two gods found themselves picnicking in the outer forests of the Land of the Remembered.

Xibalba casually lied down in the soft grass, his head resting in his wife’s lap. He listened faintly to the coursing river nearby and felt her touch his shoulder gently. His red eyes took in her presence, and he couldn’t help but smile serenely after looking at her for very long. His skeletal hand, bare rather than gloved, reached up to stroke her cheek. She giggled lightly in return. He sighed happily.

“We should have done this so long ago, Muertita,” he confessed. “It would be just us more often. No one to bother us…”

La Muerte smiled at her husband and tossed a grape into her mouth. “This is really nice, Balbi.” She chuckled. “And I love it when you’re in such a good mood.”

Xibalba placed his arms beneath him and sat up to meet her eye. “I have you to thank for that, _mi amor_.” He pressed his lips against hers and kissed her sensually. La Muerte touched his cheek and her eyes nearly fluttered as she closed them.

“Aye Balbi…” she whispered, unable to wipe the smile off of her face. “It’s moments like this that I regret losing all of those yeas with you.

He placed a long, thin finger over her lips and hushed her, kissing her forehead gently. “We will make up for that time, my love.” He took her small hands and held them as if they were the most precious things in the world. “I will never let you go, never leave you, no matter what comes out way. You’re the only for me.”

La Muerte’s smile shined as brightly as the glow in her eyes did. She tossed her sombrero aside and leaned into him. Sh felt the safety of his arms encompass her. “I never want to leave…ever.”

The two knew the goddess spoke too soon when they heard a “poof!” noise nearby. Out from a cloud of smoke appeared the Candlemaker, and holding his enormous hand was a tiny girl. She had a veil draping over her long black hair, and big doe eyes that curiously, yet nervously, looked at the gods.

“Candlemaker?” La Muerte asked, pulling away from her husband slowly. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” Her eyes fell onto the little girl, followed by a grin of admiration. “And who’s this adorable _chiquitita_?”

“I’m just here on business, as usual,” he replied lightheartedly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Oh!” He placed a hand on the little girl’s back. “And this is Puddle.”

La Muerte stepped up to the child, wo recoiled shyly into the Candlemaker’s side, the bottom of her blue dress bubbling like water. He coaxed the poor thing to greet the goddess, who had knelt over calmly. La Muerte smiled gently as Puddle slowly faced her.

     “ _Hola,_ _pequeña_ ,” She said quietly. “Oh how pretty you are…”

     The little girl blushed timidly and swayed from side to side on the balls of her feet. She smiled just a bit and peaked at away from La Muerte, obviously glad.

     “Did you make her, Candlemaker? She’s absolutely beautiful.”

     “She was a product of life wax and, well, a puddle,” he replied happily, picking up Puddle in his huge hands. “I’ve been her _papi_ ever since. She’s my little girl, right Puddle?” He smiled proudly and she snuggled into his arm. La Muerte beamed.

     “That is beyond sweet…”

     “Are you guys doing business?” Xibalba interrupted, just finishing a sandwich. “I’d kind of like to get back to my date. With my wife.”

     “ _Aye, Xibalba!_ ” La Muerte scolded lightly, while looking back at Candlemaker.

     “Actually, he’s right,” Candlemaker replied. “I need your help in the Cave of Souls. The royal folks from the Land of the Heroic are there too. Someone messed with the waterfall portals and they keep getting sent here instead of back to their place.”

     La Muerte sighed and shook her head. “I bet it was Xochiquetzal. She’s always finding herself where she doesn’t belong. Ixcumane gives his daughter way too much privilege for her young age.”

     She uncrossed her arms and peered back in Xibalba sadly. “I’m sorry, Balbi, we’ll have to do this again.”

     “What?!” the god exclaimed, his wings flaring in exasperation. “But this was your idea! And it was the only good day to do it!”

     She frowned apologetically. “I know…but duty calls Xibalba.” She snapped her fingers, and their picnic supplies assembled back into the basket. Puddle managed to summon an apple her way and bit into it happily. Xibalba stood stiffly and slithered over to them.

     “Well, at least let me come with you.”

     “Uhm, that might not be a good idea,” Candlemaker interjected. “You know how the guys in the Land of the Heroic feel about you.”

     “Oh come on!” Xibalba shouted. “That beast wasn’t let loose by me and you know it!”

     La Muerte placed a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Yet you were the one that gave the man the keys to the stable gates, just so you could amuse yourself.

     Xibalba rolled his eyes, but glanced at his wife as her hand gently brushed against his arm.

     “Just let me deal with it,” she said softly. “I’ll come back and for the rest of the day, I’ll be completely yours.”

     She kissed his cheek softly and disappeared, along with the Candlemaker and little Puddle.

~~

     It had been a while since Xibalba read a book for pleasure, but he had no better idea of how to pass the time. H had contemplated traveling to the Land of the Living to “interfere with affairs of men”, but then remembered that La Muerte had strictly forbid him from “interfering with the affairs of men”. Instead, he grabbed any random book from the castle library, disappeared to any random tree in the realm woods, and opened up to any random page to begin reading. Frankly, his eyes barely focused on the context of the book, and just skimmed over words so that he would appear remotely interested.

     “Hey, watcha reading?”

     Xibalba’s head twisted in all directions, trying to find the source of the noise. It had to come from someone, or something, young, so he peered up into the treetops. He nearly jumped when he noticed the boy sitting in the branch above him. He had to be no more than ten years old, black hair sweeping over a side of his undead face. He had luminous eyes, widely stretched as he gazed down at the dark god.

     “Wait a minute!” he snapped excitedly, jumping down from the tree. “You’re-“

     Xibalba broke his train of thought and sprang up to his tallest, stiffest stance. His wings flared up threateningly, casting a full shadow over the boy.

     “What are you doing here, boy?” he growled.

     He showed no signs of fear, rather, the boy beamed with admiration, like a kid at a churro stand.

     “Your wings are so cool…” he droned.

     Xibalba glared at the kid, surprised to see he infatuation on his face. He tended to have a terrible reputation with children due to the nature of his appearance. In all his years, he had never gotten a reaction like this.

     “What are you doing here, boy?” he asked. “Have you no family here?”

     The boy shrugged. “Not that I know of. I’m here alone.”

     The dark god scoffed. “Living parents?”

     “No, _mi hermana_ says they’re in the Land of the Cursed.”

     Xibalba’s eyes widened in complete shock, but he kept a commonplace appearance. “How do you know about the Land of the Cursed?”

     “I read about it once. My sister said that our parents went there after getting killed, since they were bad to us while they were alive.” The boy bit his lip slightly and his voice retreated. “They were part of the drug cartel.”

     “And this knowledge doesn’t bother you?” Xibalba leaned in. “Do you know what happens in the Land of the Cursed?”

     “Not directly…” He smirked a little. “It’s where the bad people in life get punished. For the rest of time.”

     He eyed the boy quizzically and crossed his arms behind his back while standing erect.

     “What’s your name, boy?”

     “Victor, sir. Victor Frances.”

     “And do you know who I am, Victor?”

     Victor squinted a little, his mind obviously processing the looks of the dark god. He tossed the hair out from his face to get a better look.

     “The books never showed pictures… but… you must be Xibalba. From the Land of the Forgotten!”

     Xibalba was indeed impressed, but it would take a lot more than that for him to admit it.

     “Well, Victor, it sounds like you really know your stuff.” The god slithered around the boy. “My question is, _why_? _Why_ do you know so much? It isn’t normal for kids your age, not from what I’ve seen, anyways.”

     Victor glanced down at the grass and shrugged shyly. He was used to being compared to the norm, both in the Land of the Living and in the Land of the Remembered. He touched his arm and nearly recoiled into himself. “When I was little, _papi_ used to scare us to bed with stories of the gods punishing us if we weren’t good kids. Sometimes _mi hermana_ told me it wasn’t true, so I had to know for sure. I snuck into the libraries late at night when _mama_ and _papi_ were away, and Sasha, my sister, was asleep. There were tons of books on the realms and gods and the ancient civilizations…” His fists balled up excitedly; he nearly exploded. “It was just so awesome! Aztec sacrifice was the coolest thing I’ve ever read about!”

     Xibalba meant to interject, but he noticed the small boy’s smile retreat into a neutral line. He continued on, a hint of sadness in his voice. “ _Papi_ told me I was weird for liking these things. Him and _mama_ used to laugh at me. Sasha never did, though.”

     The god crossed his arms and involuntary cracked a comforting smile, something he wasn’t used to doing.

     “Would you like to know more, Victor?” he offered. “I’m sure those books didn’t teach you everything.”

     Victor’s eyes suddenly shot up at him, gleaming with excitement. “Would I _ever_ …:

~~

     “So let me get this straight,” Victor questioned, gesturing his hands in a parallel position. “The ruler of the Land of the Cursed is your brother, he’s married to the ruler of the Land of the Unknown, and they’re going to have kids??”

     “That’s exactly right.” Xibalba replied, leaning back against the tree they sat under. He had proceeded to tell the kid everything he knew first-hand, leaving his family circle for last.

     “Were you two child rulers?”

     The god laughed. “My brother and I weren’t always gods. I’m surprised you don’t know about that. I’m sure it was in one of your books.”

     “Well, it wasn’t,” Victor defended. “What happened?”

     Xibalba crossed his arms and peered up at the sky, recalling the events that took place centuries ago.

     “My brother and I were raised as heavenly knights, angels of sorts. It’s what we grew up doing, it’s who our father was, and it’s who we were supposed to be. My brother knew chivalry better than I did, but to this day won’t admit that I can handle a sword twice as well. When we were young adults, the ‘orders on high’ knighted us into his order. Several decades later we became commanders. We fought for the safety of the realms, which had not been evenly divided at the time. This was eons ago.”

     Victor’s eyes seemed to study Xibalba’s appearance. “How did you get…here?”

     Xibalba chuckled lightly. “The two of us got too cocky for our own good. We got into a bet, and rather than one of us winning, both of us just got into a heap of trouble.”

     “What kind of bet?”

     “My brother and I used to train recruits, you see. And in their free time, they liked to fight one another for kicks. They were all boys, it’s what they do. The Orders on High never liked it, so all of us commanders had an obligation to stop it. When the two of us found out… we bet on our boys. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, until my brother had one vicious kid in his group. He nearly mauled one of my guys to death.” Xibalba shook his head slightly. “And it takes a lot for an angel to bleed. The fight got massive. The kid was on a rampage at some point, and by the time the two of us got there, probably three others had gotten hurt trying to stop him. The Orders on High came in and had him punished, but not before they punished us first for not sticking it to the rules.”

     Victor pulled his knees up to his chest. “What did they do to you?”

     “They burned us. They burned every inch of us. First they seared our wings until they were ash. The rest of the fire spread. It spread down our skin, our hair, until every bit of us was charred.” Xibalba found himself nearly cringing. “To tell you the truth, kid, I still have no idea how the two of us survived. I thought we’d be done for. The Orders on High never took punishment lightly. My brother claims that there was some ancient magic protecting us, but I doubt any magic would want to protect someone like myself and El Chamuco.”

     “Wait…who _are_ the Orders on High?”

     Xibalba laughed lowly. “I’m not at liberty to tell you, kid. That’s why they’re called ‘The Orders on High’. But after the burning, we were of no use to them as knights, so they deliberated on our further punishment since we hadn’t perished. Eventually they turned us in to gods, yet stuck us in the two worst realms of the thirteen.”

     Victor jumped to his feet. “But you guys are all powerful now! Being a god sounds awesome… You have power over death and life, and you can do whatever you want…:

     “I’m not complaining, boy,” Xibalba chuckled. “Good things came from it. I got married, that’s for starters.”

     “Wait… you’re married?”

     Xibalba nodded. “Are you sure this isn’t in those books of yours, kid?”

     “No!”

     As if on cue, the god heard the sound of his name being called from his right.

     “Xibalba! There you are!”

     La Muerte walked over with a smile on her face; she had obviouslt been searching for him. She glanced at her husband, but then at Victor, with the slightest inclining of confusion. In return, Victor’s eyes lit up in awe.

     “Woah…”

     Xibalba stood casually. “Victor, this is La Muerte. She rules the Land of the Remembered, as well as my heart.”

     La Muerte giggled lightly. “Hello Victor. What a pleasure to meet you.”

     Victor glanced back at Xibalba and whispered. “You’re married to her?? You’re so lucky…”

     Xibalba smiled genuinely at his wife. “I know.”

     The goddess smiled back and crouched over to have a better look at the boy. “You know, Victor… I think there was a girl looking for you. A young woman, she just arrived here. She asked about your name and told me your age… you wouldn’t happen to know a Sasha, would you?”

     “Sasha’s here?!” Victor cried out. “I have to go see her!”

     “Would you like an escort?”

     Before responding, Victor glanced back and forth between the two gods. “No, it’s already, I can find my way back.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about me.”

     He turned to Xibalba and looked him in the eyes. “You’re super cool, man… thanks. For everything.”

     Xibalba smirked back. “Right back at you, kid.”

     Victor grinned and ran off into the woods, excited to find his sister. Xibalba’s eyes trailed him for a moment, but he inevitably found himself looking back at La Muerte. She stepped up to him and rested a hand on his chest, grinning teasingly.

     “So what’s this about you being ‘cool’?” she giggled. “Where did you pick up this suave touch with children?”

     He swatted at her hand jokingly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

     “Oh yes you do!” she replied. “Where did you pick that boy up?”

     “Please. _He_ found _me_.”

     “He loved you.”

     “I wouldn’t say _loved_ , Muertita.”

     La Muerte smiled lightly and turned sincere, her hands sliding down his armor until their fingers intertwined.

     “Children aren’t as scary as you think, Balbi…. And you’re not that bad with them either.”

     He relaxed at her gentle touch and met her eyes. “Do you think, _if_ we had children… they’d be anything like that?”

     “If we had children, they would be perfect.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “And they’d love their _papi_ just as much as I do. And I know you’d love them back. You’re a greater lover than you think, Xibalba. At least, that’s the man I know I married.”

     Xibalba nearly melted at the tone of her words. As he gazed into her eyes, she started to turn the gears in his head. He was beyond lucky to have her.

     “I can’t say if I’m ready or not,” he admitted. “But let’s do it.” He cupped his hands around hers. “You deserve this more than anything. More than I deserve you.”

     La Muerte’s bright eyes gleamed more than they had in ages, and the happy tears in them reflected as they trickled down her cheeks. “Aye, Balbi…”

     She flung herself into his arms and gripped him tighter than she ever had before. She kissed him passionately, and his long arms wrapped around her lovingly. He scooped her up off the ground and held onto her as they walked back to the castle in the sunset.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Disclaimers:  
> *The Candlemaker/Puddle cameo is a creation of lamuexte on tumbr, I was lucky enough to have permission to use it. Than you my dear!  
> *I bullshitted the Land of the Heroic. I have no idea if that exists or not but we're going to pretend that it does, okay?  
> *I didn't feel like putting empty filler stuff about Aztec life because I figured it'd be more worth it to talk about how I (not everyone, how I) feel like Xibalba and Chamuco transformed from knights to gods.  
> *This is a fanfiction so some of this is bull. Based on the word of Jorge. That is all.


	8. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La Noche reflects on the past months followed by some fluff. And then things get a little parental...

     La Noche gawked at herself in the large wardrobe mirror, twisting at every angle to observe the new gown the court seamstress had made. Taking advantage of the fact that El Chamuco was still asleep, she was trying on every article of new maternity clothing If something didn’t look as good as she wanted, she’d toss it aside, and her husband would never have to see her in it.

     Her hand smoothed over her protruding belly, feeling the purple silk draping over it and flowing down to the ground. La Noche admitted that the dress was one of the finest she ever had made. It was a morning gown with transparent silk sleeves, the rest an opaque royal purple, similar in color to the robe she had hand-made Chamuco some decades ago. A thin belt tied just above her stomach, which caused the fabric to hang loosely rather than shaping around her waist and thighs like she normally preferred. But due to her condition, looser dresses were much more comfortable and therefore a better option.

     She turned to the side and studied how the dress flowed with her motions. The silk trailed along fluidly, but she grimaced at the lack of her best assets. While a faint outline of her hips was noticeable, there was nothing to flaunt, and she didn’t like that. Inevitably, her eyes focused on her stomach. The dress did little to nothing to mask how big she had gotten, yet the effect it had was pleasing. Once again, La Noche stroked her tummy gently and noticed the perfect curve that followed when her hand stopped under her belly. She peered down at the resting place of her unborn children and smiled lovingly.

     “I think mama will be keeping this dress,” she whispered, wondering if they could hear her. The twins had moved minimally since she had awoken, probably still asleep inside her.

     With less than two months to go until their expected arrival, the whole realm was feeling the anticipation of the royal couple. Within the castle walls, the entire staff was doing their best to make the expectant mother feel at ease. Changes were made to the nursery once they learned of the second baby. Chamuco proposed that the colors be less stereotypical and much more personal to her, as well as the children. The parents agreed on a palette of bright and neutral blues, to appease both a boy and a girl of La Noche’s heritage. Their son’s wing consisted of furniture crafted from carefully polished molten rock, while their daughter’s remained white like the moon. La Noche only begged to keep her rocking chair and second pillow hoard, and Chamuco could not deny her that.

     The goddess reflected on the panic and insanity that sometimes surged throughout her home. She knew she wasn’t necessarily easy to deal with at times. Doctor Tzekel, the honored court physician, explained to her that many ancient goddesses experienced hormone imbalances in much larger scales than human women did. This was due to the potential powers of the child they were carrying. Chamuco and the good doctor secretly joked that the twins had to be extraordinarily powerful, given that La Noche’s mood swings were unbeatably great, even terrifying at times, and her occasional tantrums could crack mountains. Of course, upon hearing the joke, she’d promptly slap the both of them.

     La Noche cracked a smile at the recent memories and reached for the next dress in her pile. As she averted from the mirror, she felt large hands wrap around her waist gently. She recognized Chamuco immediately and melted back into his arms as his hands rested on her belly. He must have woken up silently to surprise her, still dressed in his bedtime robe. The god planted a gentle kiss on his wife’s cheek and grinned.

     “ _Buenos Dias_ , _mi Cielo_ ,” he whispered into her ear.

     “ _Buenos Dias, mi Sol,_ ” she replied softly. _“_ I trust you slept well?”

     “I did. And I just happened to wake up to a beautiful sight.”

     La Noche blushed and smiled. She pulled away gently from his embrace and turned to face him gracefully, letting the purple dress sway with her body. She didn’t have the chance to change out of it before he caught her by surprise.

     “What do you think?” she asked, modeling the dress for her husband.

     Chamuco smiled tenderly as his eyes scanned her frame. “It’s absolutely amazing.” He chuckled. “Not that you don’t already looking amazing in everything…but this…” he gestured to her. “This is beyond stunning.”

     She grinned and smoothed the sides of the dress. “Well, I wouldn’t say I look good in _everything…_ ”

     The god stepped up to his wife and placed his hands delicately on her lower waist. “Well I know little about fashion, and I have the most beautiful wife anyone could ever ask for, so I happen to be incredibly biased.”

     La Noche beamed and lifted herself on her toes to kiss him. She pulled her hair behind her ear after the kiss and peered up at him, a rosy blush staining her cheeks.

     “Do you really find me that beautiful, Chamuco?”

     Chamuco touched her delicate face with his long fingers and his eyes met hers, full of sincerity and admiration.

     “Of course I do, _mi amor_. I’m a man of honesty, I would not be able to say it if it were not true.”

     La Noche looked away with a glowing face and rested her head comfortably on his warm upper chest. “Even with my stomach being as big as it is?”

     He chuckled, entertained. “Especially with your stomach being as big as it is.”

     His arms moved behind her back and below her knees, sweeping her off the ground as gently and smoothly as possible. She gave out a surprised little cry and put an arm around his shoulder for support, laughing slightly. He placed a warm kiss on the center of her stomach, which sent pleasant and happy shivers throughout La Noche’s entire body.

     “How are our children doing this morning?” he inquired.

     “Neither has been very active,” she replied. “They’ve given me a pretty peaceful morning, for a change. But you know… our little boy is still awaiting a name.” She curiously raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Have you picked one yet?”

     “I’ve got a few I’m still debating. Axoloa, Iktan and Votan all sound very promising for our son.”

     La Noche could help but giggle slightly at Chamuco’s pronunciation difficulties, but she let it slide since he was greatly improving.

     “Well, I think it’d be cute to have children with similar names. Can you imagine ‘Itzel and Itkan’?”

     “Alright, first off, my son will not referred to as ‘cute’,” he corrected. “He’ll be a fine warrior and a great leader.”

     La Noche smiled sarcastically and pressed a finger over his lips. “Before our son becomes a ‘fine warrior’, he will be our little baby, which automatically makes him ‘cute’.” She kissed his cheek playfully. “That, and he will most likely look just like his papa.”

     She giggled as Chamuco rolled his fiery eyes, yet was unable to wipe the amused grin off his face

     “Now put me down,” she demanded lightheartedly. “I’ve got two more dresses to try on and if I don’t do it before breakfast, I’ll be guaranteed to probably never fit in them.”

     Chamuco laughed heartily as he set her down slowly. She untied the belt of her dress, slipping out from the silk. He took the fifteen second advantage to glance at her body, especially her hips and thighs. He watched as his wife donned a deep navy evening gown, adorned with feather accents of lighter blues and purples. Like the previous dress, it complemented the curves of her belly, yet the fabric wrapped in different directions to achieve the effect, rather than draping straight down.

     La Noche shook her hands out from underneath the oversized tube sleeves and fixed some of the creasing fabric. The deep colors contrasted her fair skin, yet matched her dark hair.

     Chamuco smiled at her as she turned and twisted to see her reflection. “It looks fantastic.”

     La Noche nodded, but could not bring herself to smile. A sudden sadness came over her, and she stepped away from the mirror view slowly. She took a seat on the edge of their bed, and Chamuco looked over at her, concerned. He knelt over to her on one knee, taking her hands in his.

     “‘Che? What’s the matter?”

     She glanced up slightly and sighed. “I just…it reminds me of something my mother would wear.” She pulled her hands away from his and crossed them over her stomach, looking away sadly. “I haven’t talked to her in eons…or my father… they don’t even know I’m having kids…” Her head fell into her hands. “I’m such a horrible daughter.”

     He hushed her comfortingly and took her face in his hands delicately, reaching up to kiss her forehead. “My darling, don’t say that. You have two months until the children are born… why don’t you write to them?”

     La Noche sighed and looked down at him. “Do you think they’ll be upset that I haven’t told them yet? Maybe I should go visit them-“

     “Oh no,” he interrupted softly. “There is no way I’m letting you travel out of this realm in this state. Invite them here, maybe? I don’t want anything happening to you.”

     She wiped the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes and nodded. Chamuco stood and lifted her up slowly, supporting most of her body weight. He kissed her forehead and she cuddled into his warm body.

     “So will you be keeping this dress?” he asked comfortingly. She nodded silently, her head rubbing against his chest.

~~

     The White Castle of Ometeopl was as quiet as ever. The blue heavenly skies reflected in the lake, the seasonal flowers were just beginning to bloom, and the gentle wings blew through the doors. Unlike most realms, there were no subjects in Ometeopl, because it was no place for the human soul. Its rulers made sure to be left alone in peace, and they had remained that way for centuries.

     Lord Mictlantelchuti awoke at the morning arrival of his ravens, just like he did daily. His beady, fiery eyes glanced at the large windowsill where his pets were rapping gently. He slipped out from his canopy be and opened the window, his ravens congregating before him. His ivory, skeletal fingers caressed the nearest bird, suddenly plucking a wing feather from it and chucking at the “squawk” that followed. He turned to the tall table near the window and reached for a silver chalice and a bottle of poison wine. The old god poured himself a morning glass and dropped the raven’s feather into it. The feather dissolved and the wine bubbled slightly, and he drank it satisfyingly. What a wonderful way to wake up.

     “Playing with your birds again, Mictlan?” a teasing, mature voice said. The lady Mictecacihuatl awoke after noticing the absence of her husband in bed. The god turned back and cracked a smile, extending his chalice outwards in a suggestive gesture.

     “Shall I make you one too, my dear? Although I know raven feathers are not your favorite spice.”

     She rolled her eyes but let a smirk slip past her lips, nodding. He plucked a smaller feather and made her a drink as well, carrying it back to bed. Micteca took the chalice and sipped from it.

     “It isn’t bad, you know,” she said. “But I do prefer owl feathers in a red wine, just like the one you make at our nicer dinners.”

     Mictlan chuckled. “The owls come only at night, my sweet, which is why their feathers make amazing evening cocktails.”

     She smiled lightheartedly and took another sip, kissing her husband’s cheek. “Why don’t you go get ready for breakfast, Mictlan? We’ll be heading out to the lake afterwards.”

     Setting his chalice aside, the god sprawled his fingers in the direction of the wardrobe. He stood as it opened, and pulled two robes, one white and one black.

     “Which one do you think is fit for today, Micteca?” he inquired.

     The lady was reaching for her own deep purple and turquoise dress. “You’ve already managed to mingle with your ravens might as well wear black in their honor.”

     He snapped his fingers to change, finishing off his look with his feather headdress and cowl. Micteca fixed her long poncho over her shoulders and reached back for her chalice, finishing whatever was left in it. The two made their way to the castle garden ,where they regularly took their breakfast. The ghastly, soulless servants prepared fresh morning bread, as well as nectar from the flowers and the ripest fruits picked fresh.

     The gods took their place at the glass table in the center of the rose garden. It was one of the more special places in Ometeopl, because the roses could change at their own will, yet their color mainly reflected what happened to be on Mictlan’s mind. Micteca glanced at the bushes and smiled at the black to red ombre coloring. Her husband must be in a romantic mood already.

     She reached for the ambrosia nectar while he picked at the fruit. One of the lord’s ravens flew in overhead, landing on the table top. The god noticed a folded paper between its beak and pulled it out confusingly. Micteca looked up from her breakfast, her eyebrows creased.

     “Mail?” she asked. “From who? It better not be the Creator, I don’t feel like speaking to him after that last incident.”

     “Hush now, you still can’t be that upset,” Mictlan replied as he tore through the wax seal and unfolded the letter. His beady eyes quickly scanned the words; he was an insanely fast reader. Micteca grew concerned as she noticed the roses around them fade into an unexpected baby blue. She snatched the letter from his bony hands.

     “To my dearest mama and papa,” she read aloud. “I barely know where to begin with this letter. I know that you two must not be used to receiving mail, especially from your own daughter. I want to try to make this letter as concise as I can because I am not able to deliver this news to you in person. I hope you’ll understand why. I have the happiest news in the world, and it is that I am expecting twins.”

     The lady gasped and glanced at her husband, who enticed her to continue.

     “I am seven months along, and the doctor has informed me that I am going to have a boy and a girl. I wish I had the courage to tell you two earlier, and I regret not doing so. I know this is something you would rather hear in person, but Chamuco and I were still working things out. The two of us were entirely unprepared when we found out, but we’ve done our best to adjust our lives to this new addition.

     “I know you both must be shocked and confused. So were the both of us. Rather than trying to explain everything on paper, I invite you to visit us in the Land of the Forgotten. La Muerte will want to see you two as well. Hopefully, we can put the past behind us. I know none of us are without blame in our fallout, but this is something new for all of us. And I would love for my children to know their grandparents. Love, La Noche.”

     The goddess looked at her husband with wide eyes, her body nearly tense from the shock. “Mictlan… we’re…”

     Her sentence froze at the sight of a smile slipping from Mictlan’s lips. It was a warm smile, one he often displayed around his daughters, and one that had not made an appearance in centuries. He grasped her hand and called for some of his servants quickly.

     “Prepare the carraiges!” he ordered. “We’re going to the Land of the Unknown!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter only has two sections due to the amount of paragraph description and not as much dialogue. I hope it's enjoyable none the less!
> 
> Also, Mictlan and Micteca are actually headcanons I borrowed (with permission) from the wonderful Zabchan. She has designed them on her blog, so if you'd want a visual representation, just go with the links below.
> 
> http://zabchansketchbook.tumblr.com/post/126616129718/mictlan-and-micteca-round-two-color-still-cant  
> http://zabchansketchbook.tumblr.com/post/126167944670/i-made-a-pass-at-la-noche-la-muertes
> 
> Anyways, leave a kudos, give me some comments, and I will see you all next time! School is starting soon so updates might be slower after the next chapter!


	9. Like Mother Like Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La Noche invites her parents to the Land of the Unknown for a reunion, but she's nervous to see them after centuries of not talking. Also, some chivalrous El Chamuco because I needed him being suave AF.

_~centuries ago~_

_“Girls!” the Goddess Micteca called while stirring her spiced cocoa. “Come down for a moment!”_

_La Noche and La Muerte glanced towards the staircase through their open bedroom door. The sugar goddess put down her book and peered over at her sister skeptically._

_“What did you do his time,_ hermana _?”_

_“I didn’t do anything!” La Noche rebuffed, setting aside her bone-carved hair brush. “It must be something you did!”_

_“Was not!”_

_“GIRLS!”_

_La Muerte shook her acrimoniously at her sister and they both ran down to the palace’s biggest, altar-like parlor, where the godly family often unwound at the end of the day. The bonfire in the center emitted dying embers rather than its usual roaring flames. Mictlan and Micteca were seated in their thrones of gold, lined with the finest_ ayate _fibers. La Muerte and La Noche passed by the stone pillars, engraved with glyphs and images, and sat on the cushiony red couch that lined the lower lever of the room opposite their parents. La Noche immediately noticed te absence of her father’s wine chalice, as well as his ravens and owls, and that meant matters were serious._

 _“Did we do something wrong,_ mama _?” she asked, almost nervous, crossing one leg over the other._

_“No girls, not at all.” Micteca replied, sipping her cocoa gingerly. “Your father and I have to have a very important discussion with the two of you, though.” She glanced at her husband sternly, inviting him to initiate._

_Mictlan leaned forward stiffly, resting his elbows on his knees and glancing back and forth at his girls as he took a breath. “As you girls know, the land of the living is exponentially expanding. There are more souls being born, and with that will come more dying. More souls to be separated into the thirteen realms. It is getting harder and harder on your mother and myself… we can no longer handle it on our own. We’re exhausted beyond belief.”_

_“We’ve begun distributing the thirteen amongst those we find worthy to rule each one as they wish,” Micteca added. “Naturally, The Land of the Blessed went to our good friend, the Creator. His brother will take over the Cave of Souls to keep track of the living and the dead. He is a good boy, that Candlemaker, but he’s no ruler unfortunately.”_

_La Noche and La Muerte exchanged bewildered looks._

_“But…_ mama _,_ papi _…” La Muerte asked. “What does this have to do with us?”_

_“Oh girls, you surely must understand by now…”_

_Mictlan sighed and extended his fingers towards the bonfire, revitalizing the embers ever so slightly._

_“As our daughters,” he continued. “It would only be fitting that each of you inherits a realm.”_

_“Don’t be alarmed girls,” Micteca interjected, taking another small sip of her cocoa. “It won’t be the Lands of the Forgotten or the Cursed.”_

_“Yeah,” Mictlan murmured, looking slightly off to the side. “We’re still looking for two huge idiots-“_

_He was interrupted by a sharp jab in the side from his wife._

_“-I mean, worthy candidates, to take those over.”_

_La Noche cared little for all the technicalities. She was thrilled beyond belief._

_“So what realms are we going to get,_ papi _?”_

_“Well, Nochessa, your mother and I discussed this very thoroughly, and I agree with her best judgement. You are to inherit the Land of the Unknown.” He turned to face La Muerte. “And you, Muertita, will inherit the Land of the Remembered.”_

_The sisters’ expressions seemed to transform paradoxically. La Muerte beamed with radiant enthusiasm, while La Noche’s mouth nearly dropped to the ground._

_“Wait!” she cried out. “Why the Land of the Unknown?! It’s so…dull and depressing.”_

_Mictlan was about to answer, but Micteca set her cup down and looked at her daughter gravely, not appreciative of her tone of voice._

_“Well it isn’t the Land of the Forgotten,_ mija _. And it isn’t as dull as you’d think. Those inhabitants are…interesting people. Much darker and brooding than those in the Land of the Remembered. You’re much more mysterious that way, my dear. They need someone who is sharp, regal, but cold enough to deal with them. You definitely have it in you.” The goddess relaxed into her chair. “Which can be a good thing at times.”_

Cold… _La Noche thought._ Does she really think that’s the epitome of me, after all these years? _“Why does La Muerte fit in with the Land of the Remembered, then? Is it because she’s the warm one? The one that everyone loves? How come she gets all the fiestas, all the fun?”_

_“We placed her there because it is her best fit,” Micteca snapped back. “Just as we did with you. Now, not another word from you, or you won’t have a realm at all. Be grateful for what you have, La Noche. Learn that.”_

_Fuming on the inside, La Noche stood sharply and hastily exited the room. Mictlan and La Muerte gazed at her as she stormed back upstairs to the room. Mictea simply shook her head and resumed sipping her tea._

~present day~

     The carriage of bone, driven by ghastly stallions and soulless coachmen, rode through the Land of the Unknown. The old gods could not visit the realms by means of teleportation because teleporting in and out of Ometeopl was impossible. Lord Mictlan gazed out the thin glass window at the changes in the realm, observing the work his daughter had done.

     “It’s much more…vivid,” he admired, glancing at his lady wife. She nodded, but on her face were solemnness and sadness together. Her hands were crossed over her lap reservedly, and she was looking aimlessly out the other window.

     “What is it, my dear?” he asked delicately.

     Micteca sighed ever so slightly. “Are you not worried just a bit, Mictlan?”

     “Truthfully, _mi amor_ , no…” He read her expression. “I’ve never known you to be worried much.”

     “We haven’t spoken to her in centuries. Where do we even start? How can I-“

     Mictlan reached over suddenly and grasped her hands. “I think the account of children is a perfect excuse to speak to our daughter again. She is a woman now, not the same girl we last saw.” He squeezed her hands comfortingly. “She will need you, Micteca. You are her mother. And besides!” He flashed a lightly smile. “How can you not be excited? We’re going to be grandparents! Just the thought…”

     Micteca, although slightly comforted, still shook her head uncertainly. “What if I’m the same way I was with the girls? I’m not warm like you, Mictlan, it must be a human thing. You’ve spent so much time with them, you’ve picked it up-“

     “Warmth, my dear,” he interjected. “Is no object exclusive to humans.” He kissed her hand. “It’s just a form of expressing love. And you gave our daughters the very best in a way only you could. They’re older now, they’ll be thanking you for it.”

     “I still can’t guarantee I’ll be a good grandmother.”

     “And I can’t guarantee that I’ll be a good grandfather. But we’ll determine that when the twins arrive, won’t we?”

     Micteca attempted to hide the smile he put on her face. Inevitably, she failed.

~~

     La Noche stood at the bottom of the front castle stairs, watching nervously as the bone carriage pulled in through the silver gates. El Chamuco stood closely next to her, studying her to make sure she wouldn’t faint from being overwhelmed. He placed a comforting hand on her back as her hands slid to the top of her stomach, where the twins were moving in response to their mother’s anxiousness.

     He leaned over slightly and whispered into her ear. “If anything goes wrong I can stay right here… don’t worry, _Mi Cielo_.”

     She nodded and relaxed into his touch as the carriage came to a halt before them. The soulless footman opened the door and the first to step out was Lord Mictlan. His eyes immediately fell upon his daughter, and La Noche felt her heart drop at the sight of him.

     “ _Mijita_ …” he said with a light smile. “Is that really you?”

     La Noche chortled slightly and took a step away from her husband. “It’s me, _papi_. Just fat, that’s all.”

     He extended his arms as they walked towards each other, and she found herself falling into a huge embrace.

     “ _Ay_ , my little girl!” He hugged her to the best of his ability.

     La Noche blushed happily and pulled away, their arms still holding one another. “Sorry about that, _papi_. I’ve just got others taking up my space right now.”

     “No need to apologize, Nochessa,” he replied warmly. “And look at you… you’re practically glowing.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, whispering excitedly. “You have no idea how excited I am.”

     She smiled, but as she glanced past him, she noticed her mother approaching them. She stiffened as Micteca came to stand by Mictlan’s side. For a moment, neither found the words to say anything.

     “ _Mama_ … it is… it is very good to see you.”

     The old goddess briefly studied her daughter, especially the prominent swell in her abdomen. Her expression was not as neutral as La Noche was used to, but there was a hint of sadness and regression emanating from her just barely.

     “It’s very good to see you too, La Noche,” Micteca replied, folding her hands. La Noche observed her mother’s face, as well as her fathers. Although they had not significantly aged, as the old gods often do not, there was a certain maturity they had reached that La Noche knew had not been there when she was still a girl. It was visible in the heaviness of her mother’s eyes, and by the charm of her father’s smile. Retirement had done them well, but it wasn’t enough to spare them from the changes of the universe.

     “The realm looks fantastic,” Micteca commented. “I can tell you’ve worked hard here.”

     La Noche’s eyes lit up marginally. “Do you… do you really think so mother?”

     “I mean, a few spots here or there could use improvement, like the further landscaping.” Micteca paused and took a silent breath. “But…I’m sure you’ve just had a lot on your plate these last few months. I can’t blame you, the realm is perfectly well kept.”

     La Noche, for the first time in centuries, saw the true essence of her mother for what it really was. Her mother was just picky in that way and she always had been. After being separated for so long, she had learned not to take it personally.

     “Won’t you two come inside? I’ll have the porters take your luggage to the room we’ve fixed, and the cooks will begin dinner.”

     She froze internally. What to do next? Where would she even begin?

     To her luck, El Chamuco stepped up to them and greeted the old gods charismatically, as he had always done before. He gained her time to relax by chivalrously asking them about their trip, if they were comfortable, and everything in between. She was so lucky to have him in moments like this. He even initiated walking up the stairs, picking La Noche up before she could even step on the first stone. As amused as she was, she crossed her arms and pouted.

     “I can walk, Chamuco,” she mumbled.

     He smiled charmingly. “You can, but you don’t have to, _Luna_. I don’t want you pushing yourself if there’s an alternative.”    

     Out of the corner of her eye, La Noche noticed the satisfaction in her parents’ expressions. At least her husband had secured their favor.

     He set her down at the doorway of the castle and kissed her head. He offered to leave the trio alone and run some of La Noche’s realm-related errands so that she wouldn’t have to think about them.

     “If you do need me,” he whispered to her discreetly. “I can stay.”

     She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, Diablito. Thank you so much.”

     El Chamuco rolled his eyes at the nickname, but lovingly accepted her quick kiss before departing with other realm officials. La Noche proceeded to bring her parents inside.

     Micteca immediately observed all of the architecture, a secret passion of her. All of the marble was a modern touch, seeing as La Noche preferred cool tones over warm ones. Yet, the palace decorations were infused with traditional touches, like the carved pillars and the draping curtains. It nearly left her speechless.

     “You’ve made quite a home here…” she commented. “It’s very elegent.”

     “ _Gracias, mama_ ,” La Noche replied. “I wish I could give you two a full tour… but that’d probably take more than a full day.” She chuckled and rested her hands on her belly. “And there is no way I’ll survive climbing _all_ of the stairs, according to El Chamuco.”

     Mictlan chuckled and rubbed her arm. “Don’t poke fun at him, I’d rather him be overprotective than under. Now, if you two have built a nursery, I’d love to see that.”

     “Oh of course!”

     La Noche eagerly led her parents to the mezzanine floor, despite having to climb a short set of stairs. The nursery was pretty much finished and clean. It was ready for the twins to come and inhabit it.

     The old gods observed every angle of the room as they stepped in; the large windows, the colors, the decorations, and the furniture. Micteca strode through it, sliding her fingers on the white crib, looking back at her daughter.

     “It’s wonderful, La Noche.” She gave the slightest hint of a smile. “For a moment I was expecting most of it to be pink.”

     La Noche blushed and chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

     “Hah…yeah…pink…no, why would I do that? That’s ridiculous.”

     She heard Micteca laugh lightly, which was always a good sign. Mictlan took a seat on the couch comfortably, nearly sinking into it. If there was one thing he loved, it was comfortable cushioning.

     “Your mother is right, _mijita_ , it’s fantastic. And this couch… reminds me of the lining we had in the palace we lived in when you were children. The one by the fire?”

     La Noche lowered herself into her rocking chair slowly and nodded. “La Muerte and I adored that couch. I had to have one just like it; I just couldn’t get one built into the frame of the room itself. That frame is actually made out of hardened molten rock. And then of course the cushioning was custom made in the style of that specific lining.”

     Mictlan smiled and leaned back. “ _Ay,_ I might not even be able to get back up.”

     Micteca sat next to her husband, but kept her back erect as she usually did. The old god gingerly took her hand.

     “You know what I need to know about?” he mentioned. “Names. Have you two picked them yet?”

     “Oh absolutely,” La Noche replied, placing her hands over her belly. “We decided on Itzel for our little girl, and that was back when we didn’t know I was having twins. El Chamuco proposed Iktan for a boy amongst other names, but that’s the one we’ve settled on.” A part of her looked to her parents for approval.

     “Itzel and Iktan…” Micteca replied. “They’re both so traditional… somehow I didn’t see that coming from you.”

     “The both of us wanted something that tied into the old heritage, but also, he had to be able to pronounce them.” La Noche laughed lightheartedly. “If you’re worried about modern names, keep a look out for when La Muerte and Xibalba have their first… I doubt it’ll be traditional in the slightest.”

     “Hold on,” Mictlan interjected, sitting up slightly. “Are they back together again? Her and Xibalba?”

     La Noche nodded and shrugged. “They love each other, _papi_ , they’ll keep on getting back together no matter what happens.”

     “Well I hope he takes care of her as well as El Chamuco takes care of you,” he added.

     She blushed slightly, but grinned. “He really, really does, _papi_. He’s always making sure I’m comfortable, that I’m not in pain, that I’m not stressed or overwhelmed.” She rubbed of her stomach. “He’s just as excited for these two as I am.”

     “I guess you can say he’ll be one _hell of a father_.”

     After a brief moment of silence, both father and daughter nearly exploded into laughter. Micteca’s eyebrows creased and she glanced at both of them in confusion.

     “I’m sorry, am I missing something?” she asked sternly.

     “Get it?” Mictlan said between chortles. “One ‘hell of a father’?”

     She blinked.

     “Because he rules the Land of the Cursed?!”

     Micteca let out and exasperated breath and rolled her eyes. “ _Ay_ Mictlan, it must be a mortal thing, really. You’ve spent too much time around them. What need has a death god of jokes. Death is never a laughing matter.”

     La Noche watched amusingly as her father touched her mother’s arm delicately and leaned over to her ear as she looked away.

     “Ah, that is where we must disagree my dear, for in truth, it is death who always gets the last laugh.”

     Her parents were special. And she wouldn’t have them any other way.

~~

     Dinner was a surprising success. Having little to do with modern times, Mictlan and Micteca were introduced to dishes they had never laid eyes on. La Noche went through the liberty of explaining the new cuisine, since the recipes were hers to begin with. Since she was usually too busy, or lazy, to cook, the kitchen staff knew her recipes perfectly and created everything to her taste. Mictlan was much more open to trying non-traditional food than his wife, yet she nibbled on most of the courses out of respect, and even found some enjoyable. From the _chile rellenos_ to the _Oaxacan tostadas_ , the food was phenomenal.

     “Where have _churros_ been all my existence?” Mictlan commented as he reached for another. “These are beyond spectacular.”

     La Noche giggled and ate another bite of her corn _encelada_. “I’m glad you like it, _papi_. I’ll even have the recipe given to your kitchen staff at home.”

     “I might as well steal your recipe book and take it back with me. Your poor mother will just have to deal with it.”

     The two of them laughed while Micteca sarcastically shook her head.

     El Chamuco came into the dining hall hastily, flashing a charismatic smile and sitting down next to his wife.

     “I apologize for being late,” he said as a servant brought out his plate. “Had an unexpected situation, all taken care of.” He gingerly took a bite out of a tostada. “I hope everything else was satisfactory.”

     “Everything is exquisite, El Chamuco,” Micteca replied. “Thank you.”

     “And thank you for taking care of our daughter,” Mictlan added sincerely. “The way she speaks about you reassures us she’s in good hands, and so are our grandchildren.”

     Chamuco looked over at a blushing La Noche with a playful chuckle. “Oh really? You talk about me? Why thank you my dear.”

     She slapped his shoulder with a light laugh as he turned back to the old gods.

     “Well it’s my pleasure to be married to such an amazing woman.”

     La Noche rolled her eyes and quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. “Stop it, you charmer.”

     She glanced over at her parents and noticed her mother’s solemn face returning, but with a more passionate glow than before. “Mama,” she asked. “Would you like to take a walk with me? I’d love to show you the garden while these two are finishing.”

     Micteca nodded in agreement, and the two excused themselves and left the room. Mictlan waited until the door was shut, and then swivled his head to El Chamuco.

     “Is there wine here?” he whispered lowly. “I didn’t want to ask for La Noche’s sake but I’m _dying_ for a glass.”

     “I know exactly how you feel,” El Chamuco admitted with a deep breath, calling for one of the servers. “Bring us the finest red wine we have in the cellar. And make it quick before La Noche comes back.”

~~

     As the sun set over the Land of the Forgotten, La Noche led her mother through the violet forest that surrounded her palace. She kept her garden in a clearing in the woods rather than directly near the castle. The violet trees gave the plants the perfect amount of light during the day, and it was peaceful and quiet whenever La Noche needed to relax. All her plants followed a cool-toned theme, which was very calming when the sun reflected on the petals and leaves. She had a fantastic gardener who knew her taste as well as she did, and his work had no match.

     As the two wandered on the stone patch between the tulips, La Noche felt a surge inside her stomach. Her hand flew up to her side and she drew a sharp breath. Micteca nearly caught her, a worried look on her face.

     “Are you alright?” she asked quickly.

     La Noche nodded and caught her breath. “I’m fine,” she reassured. “Iktan just kicked, that’s all.” She chuckled lightly, sitting down on the nearest marble bench. “He’ll be a strong one, just like his father.”

     Micteca let out a relieved breath and sat down next to her daughter, looking away for a second to compose herself.

     “You know, La Noche,” she said sadly. “I never carried you and your sister. Your father and I didn’t take the time to prepare for children, even though we could have. We were busy with the rest of the heavens; we thought children would be nothing much extra. We made the decision to have you two, and suddenly, you were here.” She peered down at the ground. “I regret that sometimes. Your father…he caught on quickly. He seemed to know you girls as if he had spent his entire existence preparing to raise you. Even when I watched him read to you, cuddle you, even play with you; I genuinely wondered how he did it. I wasn’t like that. I could hug you, kiss you, but it would never been the same as your father.” She sighed shakily. “I just didn’t know until it was too late.”

     La Noche shockingly looked at her. “ _Mama…_ don’t say that.” She took a calming breath. “You and _papi_ … there’s so much I have you two to thank for that I wish I had said centuries ago.”

     Micteca gazed at her daughter and smiled sadly, pushing a strand of loose hair behind her head piece. “I love you and your sister so much, _mijita_ … I really do, even if you don’t believe me. And I already know I’ll love them as much.”

     La Noche’s eyes welled with tears and she nearly tossed herself into her mother’s arms. “They’re going to love you so much, _mama_ … And I do love you…”

     Micteca closed her eyes and relaxed, embracing her daughter back.

     “Thank you, Nochessa.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a big thank you to guy guys for all the love and support I get from my readers. This last week has been hard because my grandfather passed away, and he was one of the biggest influences in my life. I was not able to attend the wake or funeral since he died in Poland and I live in the U. S. I've written this chapter with Mictlan acting more grandfatherly just to help me cope with the loss. As much as I'll miss him, he's in a better place.
> 
> Also, school begins soon, and I'll be updating less frequently, but I promise not to abandon you guys! Thank you!


	10. Three Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short, but I definitely needed some Xibalba/La Muerte context! Some sadness + comfort + smexy time is just a little filler.

     Three months of trying.

     And three months of failure.

     Since the visit to the Land of the Unknown and Xibalba’s chance of mind, the couple began to try for a baby. Every night of the first month became magical. They made love for hours, exploring each other’s bodies passionately, waking up in late morning in each other’s arms. For the first week or so, no results were evident, which was to be expected. But weeks turned into a month, and La Muerte began to worry.

     She became anxious and panicked, wondering what they were doing wrong. The tiny romances had ceased, even when Xibalba attempted to woo her. She just rushed at times, falling asleep on her side when both were too tired to continue. The dark god tried to talk to her, calming her, but never succeeded. She was constantly frenzied, and there was never a moment of serenity in the castle. She became jealous of La Noche, reading the letters in an angry mindset, constantly thinking of the happiness and her husband were experiencing. She tried not to show her envy too much, but Xibalba noticed. He secretly read the letters, wondering just what could infuriate his wife so much. While he saw nothing inherently wrong, he wondered if he and La Muerte could relate one, if they were expecting a child just as they were. But as the new month rolled in, there was little happiness to relate to.

     La Muerte became depressed, slowly losing all hope. She often disappeared at night to sit alone silently, either in her garden or in her library. She had many sleepless nights, seldom wanting to make love. The entire realm felt the sadness of their queen. Xibalba’s heart broke every time he laid eyes on her, for all of her liveliness was gone. She no longer sang and danced, or interacted with the people. She rarely ate, or read her sister’s letters. Every night she slept uneasily, keeping very much to herself. Xibalba could barely touch her; she would recoil, as if she was ashamed of herself. He had never seen her like this. The dark god deeply reflected on the idea of a child, until he too began feeling not just a mere want, but a need for a son or daughter. He himself never thought it would come to this.

     One particular evening, he found his wife sitting by the fireplace in the palace library. She was sunken into her velvet chair, staring into the dancing flames. He knelt down by her, touching her delicate hands slowly. She let out a small, shaky breath.

     “What am I doing wrong, Xibalba?” she whispered, her eyes locked onto the fire. “What is wrong with me?”

     Her lip quivered and she covered her face with her hands as she began to sob uncontrollably. Xibalba felt as if his soul had shattered as her cries pierced echoed in the library. He couldn’t stand it; he scooped her into his arms and held her as tightly as he could.

     “Absolutely nothing is wrong with you, _mi amór_ ,” he whispered into her ear. “Absolutely nothing. You are perfect…”

     She sobbed into his chest and sank into his touch, breaking out every pent up emotion. His hand brushed her hair comfortingly and he kissed her forehead. She swallowed a breath and peered up at him with wet eyes. His face twisted into an ironically sad, but hopeful smile, and he stroked her cheek, wiping her tears away.

     “Oh Xibalba…” she said quietly. “What if we really can’t…”

     “Don’t talk like that…” he took a hold of her hand, setting her down onto her feet. “I will do anything I can. I will send for the doctors, the herbalists, the apothecaries, anyone I can find to help up. I won’t let our efforts stop here.”

     She looked into his red eyes and wiped away the welling tears in hers. “Do you mean it Xibalba?” she sighed shakily. “Do you… truly care this much?”

     “Of course, my dear…” He gave a small, encouraging smile. “I won’t stop trying until we have a baby confirmed. You and I… well, mostly you…deserve this.”

     He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much. It kills me to see you this way. I wish I could give you everything, to take away everything that hurts. You know that.”

     She leaned on his chest and intertwined their fingers. “I love you too, Balbi.”

     He smiled. “And I’m going to love our future child just as much as I love their mother.”

     He felt a tear drop onto his robes.

     But she was peacefully smiling.

~~~

     “How many letters did we get back?” La Muerte asked, pacing back and forth in the bedroom. Xibalba was resting on the bed, sorting through the royal mail, flexing his wings relaxingly.

“So far, three.” He tossed realm-related communications aside. “Your sister’s doctor is staying with, well, your sister. But we’ve gotten word back from another doctor… he’s some herbalist named Mecca…” He focused in on the letter. “Says he’s been recognized in the Land of the Lost, has definitely been approved by the other fertility goddesses and he’s good friends with the Creator.”

     La Muerte glanced over. “Land of the Lost? What kind of business does a fertility doctor have there?”

Xibalba shrugged. “He said he’s an herbalist, not a specified fertility doctor. Does it matter?”

She sighed and scuffled over to the bed, sitting next to him. As she took the letter from him, he put his arms around her and cuddled her. He buried his face in her shoulder and rested there.

“Should we invite him?” La Muerte asked.

“Sounds good to me, my dear,” he replied, muffled.

She giggled and kissed the top of his head. He peered up at her and smiled, running his hand through her thick hair. He sat up and kissed her sensually, and she accepted it wholeheartedly. He hadn’t kissed her this way in what seemed like eons. His hands ran down her shoulders and arms, sliding onto her hips. She pulled back and glanced at him, smiling lovingly and touching his cheek.

“I love you so much, _Balbi_.”

“I love you too, _Muertita_.”

     She slipped her arms around him and kissed him again. He held her a bit tighter, taking in the sugary taste of her lips.

“Shall we ‘dance’, _mi amór_?” he asked with a playful smile. Her bright eyes answered him obligingly, and he proceeded to unpin the back of her dress. She smiled and slipped his robe off of his shoulders slowly, leaning in to kiss him again. As he peeled her dress off of her body, she laid back into the sheets and reached around his neck. He kissed her and felt her body beneath him, positioning himself properly. He gazed down at her breasts, grinning playfully.

His hands cupped around them and he caressed her smooth skin. La Muerte shut her eyes and moaned ever so slightly. Her body tensed and relaxed as his long fingers danced along her sides. Xibalba kissed her neck and entered her when he had her body as relaxed as he needed. She gasped and cried out, grabbing a hold of his arms. Their rhythms synced as their bodies moved together. He led them first, changes tempos and listening to the sound of her cries. Sometimes she whispered his name, other times she screamed it. It was a composition in itself, and it was his favorite song to dance to.

They had both lost the sense of time, but the composition died away and the danced ceased when they were both exhausted. Xibalba laid back next to her, his chest rising and falling. He peered at his wife, whose eyes were glancing back at him brightly.

“That was amazing,” he said, full of admiration.

She smiled lovingly. “Well, my love, now it’s my turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was ridiculously short, but I am so busy with school work and college apps. I have big plans for the future of the fic, so no, I am definitely not going anywhere!!! Thank you to everyone who is sticking with me through all this!!!


	11. Nueva Vida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La Noche and El Chamuco had waited nine months... and nine months is over....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter was very fun to write, but also very challenging. In order to keep confusion to a minimum, I have inserted specific time frames into the scene changes. Also, for further understanding, the time in every realm is the same in any realm. Think of time being forward or ahead from other realms, like the six-hour time change between the American East Coast and Great Britain. Time is very important in this chapter, and I hope I don’t confuse anyone too much. Anyways, enjoy.)

~ _The Land of the Forgotten, Evening ~_

     Dr. Tzekal rolled up the sleeves of his coat and smoothed back his long grey hair, extending a hand over La Noche’s swollen abdomen. She relaxed back into the bed and watched as a blue glow emitted from his fingertips. He rubbed her shoulder comfortingly and reached for a pen and his notepad.

     “Do you feel any discomfort?” he asked.

     She shook her head. “Nope, not at all.” She creased her eyebrows, worriedly. “Am I supposed to?”

     The doctor chuckled. “No, no, no, not at all. Absolutely not. I just want to make sure that the babies don’t react to the aura readings. They haven’t in the past, but it’s best to make sure as we’re approaching your due date.”

     He smiled and focused in on the auras of the twins, taking notes as he observed two nearly-translucent lights reacting to the glow of his fingertips. La Noche watched him intently, trying to read his writing from the corner of her eye.

     “How are they, doctor?”

     He looked up with a reassuring grin. “They’re perfectly fine. I think they’re going to be less active not that your body is preparing for childbirth. They may or may not kick from time to time, but I think that they’re just as ready as they’ll ever be. Who knows? They could drive your body into childbirth tonight.”

     She glanced at him with slight concern. “Dr. Tzekal… are the three of us going to be okay? You know… during childbirth? I mean, anything can happen, right? Am I at risk for anything?”

     He pulled his hand away from their abdomen, and took both of her hands in his. “Your highness, I promise you; I am taking it upon myself to help you through delivery as safely as I can.” He squeezed her hands comfortingly. “The twins are strong, La Noche, and so are you. I’m confident the three of you will make it through with little to no complications at all.”

     Sh nodded compliantly and relaxed now that she was more reassured. The doctor stood and began to collect his things, packing up his tools, notes, and medicines.

     “Oh, and La Noche?” he added softly. “Don’t stress so much. Stress will only complicate the process, and truly, all of us are at your beckon call.”

     “Is there any way of telling when they’ll be here?”

     “Only when the water breaks and the contractions start, my dear. It’d be a miracle if women could choose when they were ready to go into labor. Unfortunately, not even the most powerful goddesses have that ability.”

     La Noche grinned nodded again. “Thank you, doctor. After all this is over, I’m forever in your debt.”

     “I’m just trying to do my job as best as I can,” he replied, smiling sympathetically. He walked towards the door. “Rest, my dear. I’ll be back in the morning.”

     As the doctor left, he passed El Chamuco in the long east hallway. The god had just finished the daily rounds of realm errands, and entered the bedroom. La Noche peered up with big eyes and gleamed when she saw him, extending her arms lazily for an embrace. He smiled and glided over quickly, scooping her up in his strong arms and cuddling her as best as he could. She wrapped her arms tiredly around his neck and kissed him gently. Her head rested against his warm chest, and she grinned with closed eyes.

     “It’s about time you came to bed,” she said jokingly.

     “Well, I am doing double the work,” he replied lightheartedly.

     She frowned. “If you’ve forgotten, I’m the one carrying doubles.”

     He laughed and set her back onto the bed. “You know I’m only kidding,      _mi amor_.” He took off his dragon scale armor and slipped on his nightly robes. La Noche frowned.

     “Did you have to put the robes on?”

     “You are nine months pregnant. We are _not_ having sex.”

     “But we could cuddle naked instead!”

     El Chamuco rolled his eyes and crawled into bed beside her, kissing her cheek.

     “Any news from the doctor?” he asked.

     “He says they’re both perfectly healthy,” La Noche replied, practically glowing from happiness. “He even said I could go into any time this week.”

     He noticed the nervousness in her face come through. He gripped her hand lovingly and placed his other against her upper waist.

     “Don’t be so worried, _mi amor_. It just means they’ll be in your arms sooner than you think.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “I can’t wait to meet them either.”

     La Noche’s lips curled into a small, cheeky smile and suddenly they both felt a sharp kick under El Chamuco’s hand. He chuckled and pressed his head against her stomach. “Right, Itzel?”

     The goddess scoffed but could not conceal the amused grin across her face.

     “You are ridiculous, _Diablito_.”

     “Maybe I just love my son and daughter?”

     “Or, maybe, you’re just ridiculous.”

     She felt a tiny squirm in her abdomen where Iktan was resting. Her husband chuckled as she rubbed under her belly to calm the twins down.

     “Strange,” she murmured. “The doctor said they shouldn’t be moving much…”

 _“_ Oh ‘Che, you can’t expect them to be still when they’re excited. They’re children.”

She nodded in mutual agreement, crossing her arms casually over her belly. The two glanced at one another silently, and found themselves smiling. La Noche stroked the back of his head lovingly, and he nearly melted back over her abdomen.

     “Do you think we’re ready for them, El Chamuco?” she asked softly, peering down at him. He pulled himself up to meet her at eye level, touching her cheek gently.

     “I think,” he began quietly. “That we are completely ready for them, La Noche. And we’re definitely ready for the happiest time of our lives.”

     He brushed his fingers through her thick, dark hair and kissed her. She kissed back and closed her eyes, and the room candles faded around them.

~~~

     She wasn’t even aware of how long she had slept that night, but she nearly cried out at the top of her lungs when she awoke to the wet feeling of amniotic fluid and blood quickly staining her nightgown. Before she could take a breath, a sharp abdominal pain swept through her. Her hand gripped her husband’s arm and he awoke immediately to the sight of her tensing in pain.

     “Nochessa?!”

     She gripped onto him even tighter, and her other hand pressed under her belly. She caught her brain as the pain subsided.

     “El Chamuco, call the doctor and the midwives… send word to my sister, to my parents…” she cried out again. “They’re coming!

~ _The Land of the Remembered, Mid-Afternoon_ ~

     The doors to La Muerte’s castle opened, and in entered a tall and lanky man. He carried a red leather briefcase in his left hand, and an opened letter in his right. His skin was a pale green, ornamented with vine-like designs, and his deep grey eyes hid behind clear spectacles that had movable lenses attached to the main ones. One of the servants brought him into the grand hall of the castle and called for the queen. La Muerte came down immediately and the stranger bowed before her respectfully.

     “My lady,” his youthful voice said. “It is such an amazing honor to meet you.”

     La Muerte smiled. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Mecca. I hope we can make your stay here as comfortable as possible.”

     He smiled politely. “Please, don’t worry about me. I just want to do my job as best as I can.”

     Mecca glanced past the goddess when he noticed Xibalba coming out from the side doors. The god looked at the two and glided over.

     “Lord Xibalba,” Mecca bowed slightly. “An honor.”

     “A pleasure,” Xibalba replied, a little coldly. He shook his hand and studied him. “Say… Have I seen you before. You look…vaguely familiar.”

     The doctor stepped back and looked at the god quizzically. “Wait… have you ever attended one of the Creator’s ‘New Year Soirées’?”

     “Yes… only several ones, and that was a few centuries ago.” He creased his eyebrows. “You were there?”

     “That I was. I guess we’ve never been formally introduced.”

     La Muerte glanced back and forth between the two of them, beaming. “Well I’m glad this is such an opportune moment.”

     “How come I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing you at a soirée, my queen?”

     La Muerte bit her inner lip. “Well, I do most my own _fiestas_ , but reasons were slightly complicated.”

     The doctor noticed the hints of tensions in her and decided not to press on. He nodded instead and smiled.

     “The Land of the Remembered is absolutely stunning, my lady. It’s so wonderful to finally pay a visit.”

     The goddess smiled. “Thank you, doctor. We’ll have you settled in right away.”

     He nodded. “I’m sure you’ll want to begin treatment as early as possible. If you wouldn’t mind showing me your herb garden, given that you have one, I could get started.”

     “Of course,” she replied, snapping her fingers. Two servants came over to tend to the doctor’s belongings. Xibalba took his wife under the arm and they led the doctor through the castle.

     The came into the garden and strode through the marble pavilion.

     “Feel free to use whatever is necessary, doctor,” La Muerte said.

     He nodded and wandered the premises of the garden, carefully inspecting each of the plants, flowers and herbs. He picked herbs of blue and leaves of green, as well as pink rose petals and tiny lilacs.

     La Muerte watched the doctor intently and grasped Xibalba’s hand excitedly. He glanced at her; she was beaming intensely.

     “This could be it, Xibalba,” she whispered. “This could be our chance…”

     He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head.

     “I sure hope so, _mi amór_.”

~~~

      Evening fell, and La Muerte found herself holding a tall, thin glass filled with a diluted teal liquid. Dr. Mecca folded his hands respectfully and smiled.

     “This has been formulated for your particular aura, my lady,” he explained. “A similar formula has been used on many goddesses in the pantheon, and is effective over time. This one just has a slightly different ingredient, just so that it is geared towards you. I’ll prepare it twice a day: in the morning when you take your breakfast, and in the evening before you retire to bed. The rest,” he smiled sheepishly and clasped his hands. “Is up to you and your husband, obviously.

     La Muerte blushed and nodded, staring down at the glass. She took in a hopeful breath and downed it quickly. A minty, lavender taste lingered in her mouth, and she couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. The doctor smiled and bid her goodnight, retiring to his own chamber. Soon after, Xibalba came behind her and touched her shoulder affectionately, planting a kiss on her cheek.

     “How are you feeling, _mi amór?_ ” he asked. She nodded positively and smiled, facing him and setting the glass down on the nightstand.

     “I’m pefectly fine, dear,” she replied, pursing her lips. “It does leave a funny taste though…”

     He laughed and wrapped his long arms around her. She snuggled into his chest and peered up at him with a smile.

     They were interrupted suddenly by a sharp knock on the door. La Muerte broke away from Xibalba’s embrace and kissed his cheek apologetically. She went over to the door and opened it. Before her stood a servant, very stiff, almost scared.

     “My queen,” he muttered frantically. “We’ve received word from the Land of the Unknown by raven. We don’t know why it came to us rather than directly to you, but there’s been a note attached.” He handed over a small roll, and La Muerte recognized El Chamuco’s handwriting the second she unraveled it. Her eyes scanned the words and her mouth dropped in shock. She turned to Xibalba.

     “What is it?” he asked, gliding over.

     “We have to go,” she replied quietly. “La Noche’s gone into labor.”

~ _Ometeopl: the Palace of Death, Before Dawn_ ~

     There came a rapping at the bedroom window. A raven, black as the night sky, eagerly tapped at the stained glass, even though dawn was still hours away. The bird paused and waited for the master of the ravens to answer. He resumed his rhythmic tapping when he realized he was being ignored.

     Micteca shut her eyes tighter and the noise, tossing her head to its opposite side. She swatted her husband’s shoulder drowsily and tugged at the quilt covering them.

     “ _Aye_ , Mictlan,” she groaned quietly. “Go deal with your bird.”

     The old god turned and cracked his bones tiredly, barely able to open his eyes. The tapping became more persistent, as if it were some sort of alarm. Mictlan sluggishly pulled himself out of bed and came over to the window, feeling the nightly breeze brush against his skull as he opened the panes. He took the raven onto his arm and lifted it up to eye level, inspecting the creature.

     “Well he isn’t one of mine…” he muttered, his fingers tracing blue feathers under the raven’s wing. “He must be foreign.”

     “Mictlan, does it matter?”

     The god looked back at the creature. “ _Cuervo_ , it isn’t dawn yet.” He yawned. “What’s the matter?”

     The raven squawked anxiously. Mictlan’s eyes cracked open right away.

     “You don’t mean…”

     The god watched the raven bob his head in agreement. He quickly dismissed the bird and shut the window. He turned and snapped his fingers, lighting all of the candles in the bedroom. Micteca pushed the quilt away and sat up slowly, staring at her husband.

     “What is the matter, Mictlan?” she asked. “Could you not be a little more straight-forward?”

     He reached for the handles to the immense wardrobe and turned his head back to her. “It’s La Noche, she’s gone into labor. They must’ve sent a raven all the way here from the Land of the Unknown.”

     Micteca felt her heart leap anxiously as she practically sprang out of bed.

     “Now?!” she exclaimed worriedly. “It’s probably midnight there, she’s probably exhausted as it is… and to go into labor with twins…”

     Mictlan sensed the fear in his wife’s words and he grasped her shoulders comfortingly.

     “My dear, I’m just as worried a you are. But our daughter is strong. Because… because she’s _our daughter_. She can do this, but we have no time to waste on worrying here.”

     He snapped his fingers and changed into his white robes. Micteca took in a deep breath and did the same.

     “Mictlan,” she said with sudden realization. “The carriage will never get us there in time.”

     “That’s why we’ll have to do things the old fashioned way, my dear. We’ll have to teleport.”

     “But teleporting out will break the seal, Mictlan!” He had never seen her this frantic. “What if someone… or something… gets in while we’re away?”

     He turned to her. “Then we deal with it when we return home.” He stood before her and gripped her hands. “But right now, I want to meet out grandchildren.”

     He encompassed her in his arms and comfortingly kissed the top of her head. An array of bird feathers circled around them, swirling faster and faster, until the two old gods disappeared out of their land.

~ _The Land of the Unknown, Midnight_ ~

     La Noche cried out as she felt another contraction swept over her. They were getting closer and closer. Midwives swarmed around the room, all following Dr. Tzekal’s orders, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her husband was waiting outside, for it was against tradition that he present during the whole process. La Muerte substituted, gripping her hand wiping the tears and sweat from her face.

     “La Noche,” she heard her say. “You need to listen to the doctor and the midwives. Relax, and everything is going to be okay.”

     Sweat trickled down her temples and her heart pounded like festival drums. Another contraction hit her intensely.

     “You’re nearly fully dilated, my lady!” one of the midwives cried, handing the doctor towel after towel. The goddess squeezed her sister’s hand with a never before seen strength. La Muerte did her best to conceal the fact that it was, in all honesty, pretty painful.

     “On my word, my lady!” the doctor called. “You’re going to have to push!”

     She shut her eyes and felt tears of pain run down from the corners. She took in a deep breath, fearing what would come next.

     “Push!”

     She did as she was instructed, and cried out in response. Her pained screams echoed throughout the castle. She drew in another breath and prepared for the worst.

     “Ready, my lady? Push!”

     Her hand practically crushed her sister’s as she tossed her head back in pain, pushing again.

     “The baby is crowning, my lady!” the doctor called. “Just a few times more!”

     La Muerte dabbed the sweat and tears from La Noche’s face and leaned closer.

     “Be strong, _hermana_ ,” she said encouragingly. “You can do this, I know you can.”

     She held her breath and nodded, pushing again when the doctor ordered.

     “Once more!” he called. “You can do it, my lady!”

     La Noche braced herself again, yet this time her thoughts turned to her husband. She thought of the last nine months, of all the preparation they had done, and that he was probably doing his absolute best not to rip the door off its hinges.

     “Come on my lady! Push!”

     She did.

     And there came a cry that wasn’t her own.

     In his arms, the doctor held a red, squirming infant. As the midwives quickly wrapped it up in a dark blanket, La Noche peered over intently, her abdomen practically burning as she attempted to sit up.

     “Congratulations, my lady,” said the midwife. “A boy.”

     Before she could smile, she felt another contraction sweep over her. She fought painfully to keep her eyes open, watching as they took the baby away.

     “Let me see him!” she cried. “LET ME SEE MY SON!”

     “Patience, my lady!” the doctor interjected. “We aren’t quite done yet!”

~

     El Chamuco had already broke two vases, torn four paintings and scratched the walls of the hallway countless times. It took Xibalba a while before he had forced him to stand still, holding him against a wall until the tornado of his and anxiety and hot temper subsided. The older brother threw the younger off after several minutes, but was much calmer at that point. El Chamuco glanced at the door and cringed at every scream that came from within.

     “ _Aye dios!_ ” he called out, turning to his brother. “Xibalba, why can’t I help her!”

     Xibalba had never seen his brother panic, let alone to such an extent. He grabbed his arms and stared him dead in his eyes.

     “You are _NOT_ allowed to lose it, tonight!” he said. “Any moment now, they’re going to open that door and they’re going to tell you you’ve become a father. You better control that damned temper of yours, because if you don’t, we all know the kind of damage you’re going to cause.”

     El Chamuco stared at him, but averted his eyes towards the end of the hallway when he heard a swift clattering coming through the staircase. The doorman was coming up with Mictlan and Micteca, leading them to the room. Mictlan stared at the door for a good while, until his eyes scanned over and he saw Xibalba, who wasn’t prepared to see the old guys either.

     Immediately, Mictlan grabbed the dark god by the collar of his robes and ripped him closer, glaring at him threateningly.

     “You son of a-… I ought to have you skinned for what you did to my daughter. Why are you here.”

     Xibalba chuckled sheepishly. “It’s… it’s a long story…”

     Mictlan felt his wife stiffly touch his shoulder and pull him back, whispering a sharp “Not now” between her teeth. The old god let him go, fixed the sleeves of his robes and turned his focus to El Chamuco instead.

     And then came silence. The dreaded silence that could have meant anything in the universe . The doorknob turned and the hinges creaked slightly, and from the small crack of the door came a quiet series of cries. A midwife stepped out, wiping her hands clean of the blood on a towel, but had a sincere grin plastered onto her face.

     “Congratulations, my lord. A beautiful set of twins… a boy and a girl…”

     El Chamuco nodded and hastily stepped past her, his eyes falling directly towards his wife. Everything about her was more than it ever had been. Her exhaustion had never been this vast, but her tearful eyes and tired smile were directed at the two tiny bundles resting in each of her arms. She peered up at him and grinned as widely as she could. La Muerte smiled at the two of them and cleared the room of the doctor and the midwives, leaving the new parents alone.

     He came up to his wife, who had lowered the cut of her dress and allowed the newborns to latch onto her breasts for their first meal. The one in her left arm was their son, Iktan, with skin as red as his father’s and a small tuft of black curls that emanated his mother’s. He had minimal golden designs ornamenting his skin, and had little horns already present on his forehea. But his eyes were still closed, remaining a mystery. Tiny wings peeked out from the blanket, still shriveled up and in need of a proper flexing. He clung onto his mother, taking in the well deserved meal.

     His sister, Itzel, was a miniature carbon copy of her mother, other than the small horns that matched her brother’s. Her white skin glowed against her dark hair, and on her forehead was a little golden star. She yawned, exposing her toothless gums and little baby tongue, and she pulled away from her mother’s breast.

     La Noche peered up at her husband, whose eyes were gleaming like the volcanic suns of his realm. His robes glowed brighter than they ever had out of sheer love and pride, and he kissed the top of her head lovingly.

     “They’re beautiful, _luna_ …” he whispered, smiling. “Perfect beyond all measure.”

     Suddenly, Itzel began gurgling and opened her eyes. La Noche smiled and wiped the corners of her tiny mouth with a part of the blanket.

     “Looks like someone recognize’s _papi’s_ voice,” she said, looking at El Chamuco. “I think she wants to say ‘hello’.”

     He smiled and carefully took the bundle from her, his large hands encompassing the tiny girl. He held her close to his chest, and she snuggled up to her father’s warmth immediately. Her eyes met his, her pair being identical to his.

     “Hello there, _chiquitita_ ,” he said quietly. “Remember me?”

     She gurgled again and seemed to smile, resting against his chest lovingly. He glanced over at his son, whose wings pushed out from the blanket and were flexing tiredly. He was nearly asleep against his mother’s chest. La Noche giggled softly.

     “ _Aye_ , he looks just like you,” she whispered. “We should have named him Diablito Jr…”

     He rolled his eyes jokingly and she laughed, grabbing the belt of his robe and pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

     He smiled. “I love you so much, La Noche.”

     She smiled back. “I love you too.”

     Although she was tired, she couldn’t help but kiss him again.  


	12. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. This took forever.  
> Was going to make this longer but then the chapter kind of... got too long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long everyone! The college process is crazy!!!

Confrontations (Chapter 12)

Xibalba sat in the castle library, resting in a velvet-lined chair with one skeletal hand wrapped around a silver wine chalice  and the other propping up a leather-bound atlas of the thirt een realms. He seldom read , but atlases had him curious. He took a sip of his poison wine and  shifted his eyes to initiate  a telekinetic page turn. He caught a glance at his wife from beyond the book bindings . She stood on  the third step of a shelf ladder, tracing her  fore  finger  across t he old spines. She  creased her eyes and pulled her hand away, sliding down the ladder  and stepping back onto the  smooth stone floors.

“What’s wrong,  mi amor? ”  Xibalba inquired, setting his chalice on the table beside him . “You seem… On edge.”

La Muerte peeked over at her husband  and then back at the books .  “I’m  fine, my dear. ”

He shut the book  singlehandedly  and placed it next to his wine chalice.  He silently  slid  over to her side, placing an arm  around her waist.  He felt how tense she was,  and traced his hand up to her shoulder to massage her shoulder. It had been about a month since  she had begun treatment, and she had not undergo ne any significant changes, nor were there any underlying signs. Mayb e it was too early to tell, or maybe she just hadn’t conceived. Regardless, the last thing Xibalba wanted was for his wife to fall back into a depressive state, so he was constantly on high alert.

“My dear,” he began. “I think… I think  you and I should take a vacation.  Get away from it all for a while, just you and me.”

La Muerte pulled away swiftly and turned to him with crossed arms. “And who’s going to wa tch the realm, Xibalba?”

He scoffed jokingly. “You’re worried about that?  Muertita, I haven’t been in my realm for  months , and no one’s dead yet!”

Her eyelids lowered. “Xibalba, everyone’s dead.”

His  eyes diverted away from her and he smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “Darling, you know what I mean.”

La Muerte bit the inside of her lip and looked  away in thought. “Well, maybe I co uld ask my  parents  to take ove r for a few days…”

Xibalba’ s eyes shot right  back to  her . “ Is there anyone else you could ask?”

She  raised her brow bone and stared  at him. “Is there something wrong with my parents?”

“No!” he retorted, chuckling lightly. “I  mean, your father and I don’t exactly get along.”

La Muerte leaned  on the nearest book case. “Well Xibalba,  I’m not asking my sister or her husband because they're busy with their own infant children. Everyone else has their own realms.”

“What about Candlemaker?”

“He hates watching over the realms.”

“Well didn't your parent s retire for the fact that they  hated doing it too?”

“My parents retired for complicated reasons. It wouldn't hurt to see them once in a while.”

“We saw them just last month in the Land of the Unknown!”

“That was different!”

La Muerte scowled  and stood erect. “Xibalba, you want us to take a vacation, and I need someone to watch over the realm while we do so. I want my parents here. If you can't agree to that, we aren't going anywhere. Unlike you, I can't leave my  land unattended.”

With that, she tossed her hair back and sharply walked past him, brushing the side of his wing with her shoulder. She strutted out from the library and shut the door behind her,  followed only by Xibalba’s gaze.

~~~

Later that night he slipped into their bedroom  quietly a nd found her out on the balcony, letting  a  raven  fly off of her arm  into the sunset.

“Muertita?” he  asked, slipping out of his daily armor. “ Is everything alright?”

She turned and nodded, “I just wrote to my parents,  hopefully they’ll respond soon .”

La Muerte  wrapped one a rm across her chest and held her arm, walking back inside the room slowly. She peered up at her husband. “Xibalba, I didn’t mean to be as harsh as I was back there. I don’t… I have no excuse. But  I do want to go away, and I think it won’t be that big of a deal if you see them for an hour or so.”

Xibalba s lipped on his nightly robes and walked over to her. Secretly, he still wasn’t please with seeing the old gods, but he  decided to keep quiet and compromise. He gently took her by the waist and nodded.

“ I wasn’t the best back there either,  mi amor ,” he replied. “Don’t apologize. They’re your parents.”

The corners of her mouth curled  into a small smile and she reached up to kiss his cheek.  She reached over to the nightstand and picked up her medicine gla ss, casually downing her teal concoction and falling into her husband’s arms. 

“So should we get packing?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

~~~

The morning skies in Ometeopl  w ere  a rich purple , and the inhabiting birds  w ere taking towards the clouds. Mi ctlan  was resting in  the comfort of his rose garden,  sipping on a  delectable  merlot  t hat he had spiced up with  raven and  jay  feathers .  T he  rose  petals were  a  p ale grey, a calm color that contrasted against the dark backdrop .  His ghastly servants brought over  the  newly  obtained  cacao  and sugar  that was harvested from the fields far out from the castle walls.  He  sweetened the chocolate to his liking and  set his wine aside. As per breakfast, he ordered the m to bring fresh fruit, but also conte mplated asking for baked  maize bread . He would wait until his wife awoke for that.

He didn’t have to wait long. Micteca  strode through the garden towards their morning table, still in her  bed robes  that draped be hind her along  the golden pavement .  The roses turned  to a dark navy blue  as she passed them by ,  and took a  seat next to her husband.  He flashed her a  smile and took a sip of his  cacao .

“Good morning, my darling.”

She fixed her robe and crossed one leg over the other. “You’ re up ridiculously early. Your birds missed you at the window.”

“Did they  wake you up? I’m terribly sorry, my dear. ”

“Well, I’ m up now.” She snapped her  fingers and one of the servants floated over wit h an empty cup and poured cacao for her.  S he plucked off a few thorns from the surrounding  rose bushes and dropped them into her drink,  circling a finger over her cup to dissolve them  thoroughly.

Her eyes fell back to her husband. “You aren't even dressed for the day. This is shocking coming from you.

Mictlan chuckled and gestured to her robes. “Your hypocrisy is endearing.  I simply didn’t find the need to change before the sun rose.”

Micteca  glared at him. “Why are you up so early, Mictlan?”

“You nearly kicked me off the bed last night, I couldn’t sleep.”

She frowned. “I did not.”

He chuckled again. “Yes, you did.  I assumed you were having a dream. I just didn’t want to wake you.”

The ancient goddess set down her cup. “I don’t dream, Mictlan. We’ve been around for eons, and I haven’t dreamed once.”

“Well then you’ve recently begun. Because this isn’t the first time it’s happened this  week.”

Micteca scoffed and  leaned back into her chair. Mictlan waved a servant over to and  o rdered the maize bread ,  returning his empty cup and taking his wine chalice again .

“Has there been any word from La Noche?” he asked curiously. “It’s  been a month , how are the twins? ”

“ No word from her , unfortunately,” she replied, taking a sip. “Her and El Chamuco are beyond busy. You and I both know how difficult raising twins is.”

“You say ‘difficult’,” he chuckled. “I saw ‘rewarding’.”

Micteca’s lips curled into the tiniest amused grin, but she quickly hid it with the rim of  the cup.  Mictlan la ughed lowly and watched her; he loved catching her off guard. She quickly composed herself and set her cup down on the table.

“La Muerte did write to us, howe ver.” she said, reaching inside  her robe and pulling out a rolled  letter.

Mictlan creased his brow bone and reached over to take it.  “If you found this why wouldn't you tell me first thing?”

“I knew it  could  com e up in conversation regardless , my lord husband ,” she said  calmly. “And look at that, it did.”

“Have you read it yet?”

“I have  not. I  wanted  to  give  you the honors.”

Mictlan rolled his eyes and pulled off the binding twine, unfolding the shor t letter and squinting in to read it.

“‘Dear Mama and Papa,’” he began. “‘ I was wondering if the two of you could do me a favor.  Would you be opposed to watching the realm for a couple of days? Xibalba and I wanted to get away togethe r- ’”

He stopped reading and slapped the letter on the table. “No.”

Micteca  creased her brow bone disapprovingly and crossed her arms. “ Don't play this ridiculous game, Mictlan.  At least  finish reading the note.”

“ I'm not enabling any  behavior  or events that involve  that  imbecile  touch ing  my daughter.”

“You are beyond unreasonable.” She reached for the letter. “They are married, Mictlan, and you cannot  change that.”

“He should’ve thought of that before-“

Mictlan quickly quieted down when his lady wife  sharply cleared her throat. Her eyes scanned through the letter where he left off.

“‘Xibalba and I wanted to get away t ogether for a few days, just to relax and focus on ourselves. We couldn't  possibly  ask La Noche or El Chamuco, they are probably too busy with the newborns. ’

“‘Now papa, I know what you are anticipating with this note, and all I want to say is that you'd be making me beyond  happy if you chose to do this. If at all possible, I won't even put you and Xibalba in the same room before we leave. Something tells me it would do you good to come mingle with the citizens once again. ’”

Mictlan’s solid face grew somber as his wife’s eyes panned over to him. She looked back down at the note  and  read the ending.

“‘We'd want to  leave this weekend. If you two could write back to me before then with an  acceptation  or a  decline, I would be beyond grateful. Love, La Muerte.’”

The two ancients exchanged looks, his questioning and hers piercing. The latter of the two  won .

“ Fine,” he complied with an added eye roll.

“ You have no reason to be against this. The only excuse you have for not wanting to go is because you don't want to deal with Xibalba.”

Mictlan propped an elbow on the table and  rested his head in his skeletal palm. “My dear, what part of ‘fine’ don't you understand?”

She raised one eyebrow. “Don't take that tone with me, Mict lantelchuti. I know where you're hiding your robe collection from Caesar Augustus, and I know how much you wouldn't want to have those kissed by fire…”

He sighed defeatedly. “ I'm sorry, my dear.”

~~~

Within the next few days, the ancients found themselves sitting with their daughter in the auxiliary  parlor room, accompanied by  old wine an d  a lit fireplace.

“We’ll be back Sunday night , ” La Muerte explained, fixing her hair. “You two know how to run a realm better than I do, I don't have to explain any further…”

Mi cteca fixed the overlap of her robe and nodded.  “I don't think there should be any problems, unless your father decides to  cause any with the mortals.”

Mictlan rolled his eyes. “ The last incident that I may or may not have caused happened in 2367 B. C. Nothing is going to happen over the course of three days.”

The old goddess casually  sipped from her chalice and raised her eyes, as if to gesture “if you say so”.

La Muerte giggled and stood. “We’ll be leaving soon. I'm just going to check if all of our things are ready.”

She left following the nod from both parents. As the door shut, Micteca stood as well, her husband’s eyes trailing her head.

“And where are you going?” he asked,  sounding  a li ttle too panicked.

“I want to see what she did with her home,” she answered smoothly, picking up her wine chalice from the table.  “How long has it been since we roamed these halls?”

Her grin was just prominent enough to be noticed, and she patted her husband's shoulder  a s she headed for the doors. She snapped her fingers and on command they opened, a trick that she was quite fond of using. Her hand grabbed the door before she turned to look back at  Mictlan.

“You're welcome to come, you know.”

He took a second to contemplate. 

“I'll stay here,” he answered. “Just in case La Muerte comes back.”

The Lady Micteca shrugged  and bore right, disappearing from view and the doors closing behind her. Mictlan felt strange being alone in the room. His eyes scanned  the decorum . The  elaborate  mantle of the fireplace, the golden  barriers of the walls, even the detailed carvings on the  columns that resembled the ancient mesoamerican designs that decorated their pre-retirement home.  There  were few elements resembling the Castle of Death that they currently inhabited in Ometeopl, but he lent that to the style homes La Muerte  inherited from them. After all, the castle was not entirely the same since he and Micteca had left it.

He stood as well but did not wander towards the door. Instead he perused the  shelves that held collections of ancient pottery, golden statues, and  other forms of  mortal art.  La Noche had rooms dedicated to art and mus ic, but La Muerte had less of a passion for them. He marveled at her tastes,  which were even similar to his.

The large doors creaked open and  Mictlan quickly turned, thinking that his daughter had returned.  He scowled when he saw the dark wings, knowing that it wasn't.

Xibalba slid in, his head peeking at the  corners of the room. He scanned the area, looking for his wife, but froze when he saw  her  father instead.

The ancient god was the first to speak, flatly. “Xibalba what are you doing here?”

Don't say anything stupid,  Xibalba thought. Don’t defend yourself.  He glanced at the white robes and  raised his eyebrows. “Well it is my home, I can technically do what I want.”

Dammit ! You and your stupid excuses !

His father-in-law hated that tone. Frankly,  Mictlan hated looking at him. He didn't think he could detest anything more in  all thirteen realms. He hated thinking he exist ed. He hated nearly everything about him. The ancient quickly disappeared into the air and teleported right before him,  swiftly pressing the tips of his fingers against Xibalba’s chest and forcefully slamming him against the wall.

“Listen here, Xibalba,” he  growled. “I don't call myself a violent man. But this isn't your house. It's my  daughter’s , and being my daughter’s, I don't have the heart to  rip you to pieces in here. You are so fortunate to be under her protection because if it was up to me, you would have  disappeared from the universe long ago. I'd burn you over and over again, like the high commanders burned you eons ago. Maybe then you'd know how much pain you caused  my little girl, and maybe then-”

In a second,  Lord of the Forgotten was  miraculously saved when the doors opened once more and both  goddesses stepped in.

La Muerte looked at both of them in complete shock. “How did you  two even end up in the same room?”

One of Micteca’s  rare amused grins spread across her face. “It wa s meant to be, La Muerte.”

“Mama!”

Micteca  rolled her eyes. “ Mictlan.”

The old  god pulled away and scoffed. Xibalba  composed himself and  stared at his wi fe, who was glaring right back. He opened his  mouth to explain,  but she just shook her  head.  Instead, she motioned for him to  leave. He obeyed just to keep her happy.


	13. Vacationing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double vacation with your favorite gods and goddesses!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some people that have been very confused: Mictlan and Micteca are NOT evil. They are also not canon, but I really like writing them and I love developing them. They are not just a key part of this story as anything else. If you don't like it, then you can just stop reading. I really don't enjoy the hate messages I get for including the ancients in this fan fiction. Please stop.

Xibalba completely surprised La Muerte with their trip destination, which partially made up for the falling out with her parents. They took a carriage to the river that led to the Cave of Souls. A wooden gondola, ornamented with carvings of ancient creatures, was waiting for them. Some of the servants were awaiting them, and loaded their luggage into the back. Xibalba stepped in first, extending his arm out to La Muerte. She took his hand and blushed with a smile, watching her step as she climbed in after him. She pushed a loose strand of hair to the back and sat down on the soft, velvet lined seats of the gondola. 

“Do you know how drive this thing?” she said teasingly.

“First off, my dear, you do not _drive_ a boat,” he recorded. “You sail it. And second off, who needs to sail a boat that can sail itself?”

She rolled her eyes and he sat across from her, giving a snap of his fingers and a quick clasp of his wings. The boat started off from the shore at a moderate and comfortable pace, allowing La Muerte to relax. The waters were smooth and the skies above were an iridescent purple. It was a lovely scene.

“Where are we headed exactly?” she asked, her eyes gentle.

“Well, _mi amor_ ,” he began with a cheeky smile. “While you were busy writing to your parents, I wrote to the Creator, and he was gracious enough to lend us a hand.”

La Muerte gleamed at the mention of the Creator’s name, knowing that the god from the Land of the Blessed had a glorious reputation across the pantheon for being as generous as he was. She could only imagine what he and Xibalba had prepared. She knew deep down that any extravagance would be done on the Creator’s part, but she could not deny that Xibalba took the efforts to plan their stay. A part of her was excited for the destination, but another part of her couldn't care less. Getting away for a few days with the man she loved most was enough for her.

She smiled genuinely and reached over to take Xibalba’s hand.

“Thank you, Xibalba.

He smiled back at her and kissed her hand lightly. “Anything for you, my love.” As she pulled her hand away, he fixed his gloves.

“Now,” he said. “How about a game of chess to pass the time?”

Her lips curled into a challenging smile. “Bring it on.”

He snapped his fingers and a chess table appeared between them, the black and white pieces already set for a brand new game.

“Your move, _Muertita_.”

~~~

“Checkmate.”

La Muerte stared at the chessboard as her husband eyed her with a sly grin. She raised one brow bone and hovered her hand over the white pieces. Her eyes scanned the board, but she could not find any moves to save her king. Her lord husband had won. Sitting back, she looked up at him.

“Good game, my love,” she commented with a smile, lightheartedly crossing her arms. “Congratulations.”

“Why thank you,” Xibalba replied, snapping his fingers again to clear the table. “And what wonderful timing at that. We should be close.”

“How long did that game last??”

“We were battling for a good three hours, my love.”

She had a horrible sense of time when she was in competition. It confused her slightly, but she shook it off quickly.

“Look behind you, my love.” Xibalba said, taking her shoulder. La Muerte twisted her head over and was immediately shocked. They had come into the far end of the river, through a shortcut that passed the Cave of Souls. The skies were a plum purple with twinkling stars. The banks were soon visible, and beyond the banks there were mountains and entrances to caverns. There was a consistent iridescence in the landscaping, and it was absolutely gorgeous.

The closer they pulled in, she began to make out a faint but familiar glowing figure. The Creator stood farther up the banks. He had a face much more mature than his brother’s, but kind and humble nonetheless. His beard was wispy like visible silver winds, and he wore shining golden chains that reflected the stars like crystals. He smiled at the sight of his old friends, and floated down to the riverbank to greet them.

La Muerte stepped off of the gondola slowly and nearly fell into his open arms, giggling. “Creator! Oh my… It's so good to see you! What are you doing here?”

He chuckled and hugged her back. “Ah my dear, it's fantastic to see you too.” He pulled away and looked behind her at Xibalba, who was making his way next to his wife. The dark god eyed his friend curiously.

“Were you supposed to meet us down here, Creator?” he asked. “I wasn't aware you'd…be here.”

“There’s no reason I couldn't say ‘hello’ to this darling one, is there?” he chuckled.

“Well, he replied, putting an arm around La Muerte’s waist. “I wanted to vacation with my wife, you know,” he slyly narrowed his eyes. “ _Alone_?”

La Muerte rolled her eyes and tapped his hand. “Oh come on, Balbi, give him a break. We have the whole weekend, after all.”

~~~

The old god’s bony fingers tossed another grape into his mouth, and he chewed on it curiously. He was sitting comfortably in the throne room, of course, on his daughter’s coveted chair. He had an interesting view of the room, absent-mindedly finding little details in the design out of absolute boredom.

The rest of the castle was preparing for tonight’s fiesta, as they often did daily. He had ordered the finest of ancient recipes, many which La Muerte had not asked for in ages. Coveted wines were to be brought out, and he sent for additions to the band. Mictlan wanted the fiestas during his time here to be unlike anything the residents of the Land of the Remembered had ever seen. He enjoyed showing off that way.

He instructed that the throne room be kept undisturbed, for he was particularly used to silence and he didn’t want to disturb his senses too early.

As he tossed another grape into his mouth, the heard the door casually open.

“I thought I said not to disturb me,” he boomed, not fixing his attention towards the door. But when he heard the all-too-familiar “ahem” of his wife, his eyes shot directly in her direction.

Micteca stood in front of a closed door with crossed arms and raised eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

He quickly sat upright and defensively put up a hand. “My dear, I wasn't aware that it was you-“

She glided over and raised her hand dismissively. “Spare me the details Mictlan.” She sat in the adjacent throne and reached for a grape. “Why do you bother sounding so intimidating if you're going to beg for mercy three seconds later?”

“I am intimidating,” he argued with a frown. “You just happen to be more intimidating.”

She almost looked amused. “Oh? Do I scare you, Mictlantelchuti, Ruler of the Thirteen Realms, Lord of the Seven Hells?”

“Now you're just being rude. And frankly yes, you are terrifying.” He laid back and plucked another grape. “When you want to be.”

Micteca rolled her eyes and ate another grape, sitting back in the throne.

In the brief moment of silence came a scratching noise, as if someone was climbing the walls. Micteca’s eyes scanned the throne room, looking for a susceptible target. Her atmospheric senses roused, her body froze in total concentration. Mictlan eyed her curiously, for her senses always seemed to be more keen than his. The goddess’s eyes slowed down until they were pinpointed exactly at the curtains in the right back corner.

Her arm shot up with a simultaneous snap, and the curtain collapsed onto the marble floors. There in the windowsill was a black-haired boy, standing paralyzed in fear. His skeletal features made it difficult to determine his age, but Micteca sensed he must have been about ten when he died. Sternly, she glared at the child, and snapped her fingers again. He vanished and reappeared before them, his poor bones trembling ever so slightly at the sight of the ancients.

“Do you realize you’re trespassing on very sacred ground?” she said, her voice echoing off the walls of the room.

The boy’s voice shook with his body. “I’m… I’m sorry… I was just looking for-“

“Looking for what?”

“I wasn’t going to steal anything, I promise! I was just looking for Xibalba-“

Mictlan creased his eyes and stood. “What exactly could you want with him?”

“He was supposed to give me another sword lesson… I… I didn’t know he and La Muerte were gone…”

Mictlan watched the boy intently and saw that he did not face him with the same fear he showed towards Micteca. He lowered his voice.

“I could set you to flames in this very second if I wanted to,” he said.

“But you won’t,” the boy said quietly, yet humbly.

“And how could you know that?”

“I was hiding for the last ten minutes, I heard you two talking.”

Mictlan glanced at his wife and then peered down at the boy, leaning over to meet him at eye level.

“What is your name, boy?”

“Victor, sir.”

The ancient god put a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “I’ll make you a deal, Victor. We’re going to take a walk, and if you can answer me a few things, I’ll let you go.”

~~~

“And if you look to your left, those are the caverns in which-“

La Muerte chuckled at the Creator’s hand gestures and pulled her hair back. She gently took his arm and broke away from her husband.

“Creator, Xibalba and I really, really appreciate all of this,” she said sweetly. “But the two of us would like some, you know…” she shrugged her shoulders genuinely. “Alone time?”

The Creator stopped walking and looked at the god and goddess with a gentle smile. “Oh of course.” He chuckled at himself. “I do apologize, I probably should have showed you all your ‘resort’ before the scenery.”

“That’s quite alright,” La Muerte replied with a smile. “We’ll explore it on our own.”

“Sorry to keep the both of you waiting.” He smiled back at her and extended his hand, a silver key appearing in his palm before her. She took the key by it’s ring and squeezed his hand in gratitude.

“Thank you, Creator.”

He smiled at the couple and stepped back. “I think I’ll leave you two to it.”

The both of them waved at the old god and he waved back as he vanished into a puff of cloud.

“Oh gods, _finally,_ ” Xibalba exclaimed. “I thought he was never going to stop _talking_.”

“Hush,” she replied, kissing his cheek and grabbing his hand. “We have this whole place to ourselves now, let’s go find that cabin he was talking about.”

“Well I know where _that_ is…”

“Come on then,” she said with a little smirk. “Show me.”

He flashed her his infamous grin and let go of her hand, swiftly reaching behind her and pulling her up into a bridal-style pick up. She tossed her arms around his neck and his wings fluttered just slightly as he carried her off to the resort.

The cabin that the Creator had described war more like a mansion. It was crafted out of darkened purple marble, it’s shadows reflecting the colors of the surrounding caverns. It had a magnificent front, every window lined with embellished carvings. La Muerte in all her years had never seen anything like it, for it was a touch more western than any home she had gazed upon. Xibalba, on the other hand, knew the style all too well, and was secretly pleased when he saw his wife’s admiring glances.

The interior was entirely different, white marble brightening up the entire place. Beautiful yet odd chandeliers hung from the tall ceilings. Each crystal on the chandelier was small but unique, uncut from their original form. Candlelight shone through them and reflected into each and every corner. There was such a gorgeous purity that La Muerte couldn’t describe. She was in love with every bit of it, and her overjoyed expressions showed it.

Xibalba smiled. “Somehow I knew you’d love it.”

She turned her head to him, nearly in tears. “It’s perfect.”

She delicately placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him passionately, thanking him and enticing him at the same time. There was absolute silence besides the both of them. No servants running around, no chatter from the outside, and no music either. As much as she loved all of it, La Muerte needed the silence. She had been needing it for a long time.

As she broke away from their embrace, Xibalba carried her up the center stairs and towards the back room of the second floor. The bedroom they entered was enormous, much bigger than their own, minus the touch of a balcony. The bed frame was a beautiful ivory color like the moon itself, and the sheets were completely white. There was yet another chandelier in the room, but it was much dimmer than the previous halls.

Xibalba closed the door behind them out of habit and La Muerte slipped out from his arms, her hands still holding his shoulders and her body pressing up against him tightly.

“This is perfect,” she whispered quietly, reaching up to kiss him again. Xibalba’s hand reached up under her hair and he ran his slender fingers through her thick strands, eventually placing his hand against her lower back.

“Only the best for you, _mi amor…_ ”

She only stopped kissing him briefly to smile. The rest of the night only got better.

~~~

“So let me get this straight,” Mictlan said curiously, biting into an apple as he and the young boy strode through the castle gardens. “You ran into Xibalba on accident. You’re completely obsessed with the history of us ancients. And you want to be a knight, thinking you’re going to find a suitable position for it here?”

Victor shrugged. “I’ve wanted to be a knight all my life. But I’ve got no life now. So I figured maybe there’s something I can do here instead.” He looked away from the god, but his voice kept its confidence. “I know I’m never going to grow up anymore. I know there’s no real army in the Land of the Remembered. The common people come here. They don’t fight wars, they don’t prepare for battle. They live the lives they deserved here, without any of that.”

The ancient god listened to the boy, but at the same time summoned a chalice into his right hand. He plucked a few leaves as they walked and several grapes from the passing vines, crushing them wth his free hand into the cup. He took advantage of the fact that it was so easy for him to make wine here. He tossed in a plain leaf for accelerated fermentation and tapped the side of the chalice once it was done. He sat on a stone bench and invited the boy to sit next to him.

“I’ve met many humans in my existence, Victor,” he said, taking a casual sip. “And I have to say, it’s been a very long time since I’ve met one like you.”

“Well, you’re retired, aren’t you?” he asked back innocently. “When was the last time you met a mortal?”

The god eyed the boy. “Touché.”

Victor only stifled a laugh.

“In any case,” Mictlan continued. “I somehow think you’d be better off in a different realm.”

“But is switching realms impossible?”

“Absolutely not. If you come to the Land of the Remembered, well, remembered, what happens when you’re forgotten? You don’t get to stay here.”

Victor creased his eyes. “That’s sort of bitter isn’t it?”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t make the rules.”

“But… sir… you _did_ make the rules.”

Mictlan was just about to take another sip of his self-concocted wine when he stopped in his tracks with wide eyes.

“It appears I did, didn’t I?”

Victor only nodded.

“Well,” Mictlan added, setting his chalice aside. “If I made the rules, I’ve also got a way to bend them, wouldn’t you think?”

The gears in Victor’s skull began to turn. “What did you have in mind?”

“I think… you only ended up in the Land of the Remembered because you’re a child. My daughter seems to take in all the passing children, just because of her own good will. You, you’re not like other children that I’ve seen cross from life into death. Those children, they see the spectacle of the Remembered and they forget about their living ambitions. You… I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy cling onto an ambition as much as you. I think you’d be much happier training in the Land of the Heroic, under their army.

Victor’s beady eyes beamed brighter than they ever had, but quickly faded when questions overtook him. “But how? I’m going to be ten _forever_. They’re not going to let me join them! Besides, everyone in the Land of the Heroic is…well… heroic!”

Mictlan touched his shoulder. “If anyone knows how to bend some strings, it’s me. Don’t doubt it.”


	14. Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief and interesting, at least in my opinion. El Chamuco spends some time with his daughter. Partially because he wants to, and partially because he lost a wager.

~~~ _The Land of the Unknown_ ~~~

La Noche had only been a mother for a little over a month now. Within that month, she never expected children to have such developed personalities.

Although they were barely able to comprehend the world around them, the twins were already exhibiting little quirks that stunned both of their parents. Itzel, for one, was a noise maker. She cried just about as much as any baby would, but most children didn’t purposefully enjoy noise as much as she did. If someone entered the room, she began to babble in hopes to hear their voices would answer back. If her father was nearing the room, she would be able to tell just by hearing the slight movement of his enormous wings. If it was her mother, she could tell by the constant ruffling of her long dresses and robes. In stranger contexts, she found it amusing when she dropped a toy to the ground and it made an impact noise, or when she heard the dishes clash against each other when her parents carried her past the kitchen. One time she even attempted to drop out of her crib herself just to see what noise _she_ would make, but El Chamuco wasn’t having that.

Iktan was different. He loved feeling anything and everything. He explored with his hands. Pillows, blankets, mama’s clothes, food, dirt, flowers, art, whatever. He grabbed anything he could. There was the day in which La Noche took him into the hot spring pool for a bath, and he became devastated when he learned that water could not be grabbed. La Noche thought it adorable as his tiny inflexible fingers ran through the water and the steam. He would thrust a tiny fist up to his eye level with hopes that there would be water trapped there, but to no avail. La Noche frowned and cuddled her son up to her chest, and proved to him that while water couldn’t be caught, steam could. He definitely felt better afterward.

But nonetheless, they were still infants. And one thing infants are notorious for is crying in the night.

It was normal, both La Noche and El Chamuco expected it. But they forgot that having two children meant twice the work. There would be nights where only one woke up, or where they both woke up at the same time. The worst of the nights was when they continued waking up one right after the other, whether they cried or made noise or whether Itzel was trying to push herself out of her crib again. The couple often took turns attending to each of them, but La Noche couldn’t remember the last time she had ever been this tired.

It was late in the evening, the twins already asleep, and La Noche was relaxing with El Chamuco in the hot tub, the highest heat boiling the water. She closed her eyes tiredly and laid her head against her husband’s chest, nearly falling asleep right then and there. El Chamuco propped both of his elbows behind him on the higher ledge of the hot tub and rested back.

“You know I love them, Luna,” he mumbled. “But I am _praying_ that they do not wake up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” she yawned. “I… really, really need this.”

He chuckled lightly and rubbed her arm. “I can only imagine.”

She sighed contently but tiredly. Just as she was getting  comfortable, there came a cry amplified from the other side of the castle. The two of them heard it transmitted into the room, thanks to magic that La Noche had set up. The two of them groaned, but began pulling themselves up.

“Sounds like Iktan,” La Noche said.

“You think he’s hungry? In that case, you better go.”

La Noche eyed her husband. “Oh don’t give me that excuse.” She wrung out her hair, but a thought all of a sudden crossed her mind. She smiled. “Oh Diablito… How about a little wager?”

He creased his thick eyebrows. “A wager? In the middle of the night?”

“Whoever can get to the kid’s room _first,_ and _dry_ , gets the rest of the week off. No waking up. A full week of sleep. The loser has night duty for seven straight days.”

El Chamuco glared at his wife and knew that he was much faster than she was, so he didn’t know what game she was playing. But being this tired, he wasn’t taking any risks. He bolted out of the room with only a robe on, accepting the challenge.

La Noche shook her head with a tiny smile and continued to try off. She snapped into her night robes and teleported out of the bath room.

~~~

El Chamuco already knew that his excess body heat would dry him off relatively quickly, so he didn’t think twice about bolting for the staircase. He was just about to burst into the door, without sign of La Noche entering. He stopped just before he grabbed the doorknob, having made that mistake with the kids before. He quietly opened the door and stepped in, and to his surprise, La Noche was already standing there with their son cradled up in her arms.

She looked at him, with a tiny smile, “It’s about time you got here, sweetheart.”

He leaned on the door, exhausted. “How did you-“

“Oh come on honey, I never said teleportation was against the rules.”

He looked as if someone had smacked him in the head with a frying pan. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re not a magic strategist. That’s where you and I differ, my dear.”

“This is cheating.”

“It isn’t cheating if I thought of it and you didn’t.”

As if to silence him, she put a finger to her smirking lips and gestured over to the sleeping baby.

“You’re on night duty this week, daddy,” she whispered.

~~~

A cry fit to wake the dead rang throughout the palace halls. It resonated outwards, waking some of the nearest residing dead, the staff of the castle, and most notably, El Chamuco. 

His eyes pretty much shot open, for the third night in a row.

He tiredly pressed a hand beside his pillow and pushed himself into an upright sitting position. His wife rested beside him comfortably, her long hair falling past the edge of the bed. She woke up as well, but didn’t even flinch.

She yawned slightly. “That’s your cue, _Diablito_.”

He nodded his head sarcastically and lifted himself from the bed, pulling on his purple night robe and quietly slipping out the bedroom door. He shuffled on over to the twins’ bedroom, recognizing Itzel’s cry the closer he got. He pushed the door open, making as little noise as he could except for the slight ruffle of his wings, so that she could recognize her father approaching.

He headed straight for her crib, wondering how her brother was still asleep with all this noise. Part of him figured that they had learned to ignore one another unless the cause for waking was mutual. The other part of him remained utterly confused. He wrapped his long fingers underneath her tiny body and pulled her into his arms, attempting to stifle a huge yawn. The heat from his body emanated onto the infant comfortably. She sensed it immediately, for he could feel her relax into his grip. Yet her crying didn’t cease.

He learned before that she hated being bounced. That was something her brother preferred. Rather, he took his left hand and extended two fingers, gently stroking her cheek and hushing her with his deep, warm voice.

“There, there, _mijita_ ,” he whispered. “Papa’s here… what’s got you frightened…”

She wasn’t hungry, nor was she uncomfortably. Late night feeding time was the only exception La Noche had made to the wager, for it was literally _quite impossible_ for El Chamuco to fulfill that need. Itzel didn’t reject her father’s touch, which was gave away that she really needed to be comforted. He just couldn’t place _why._

Although his exhaustion was controlling the majority of his consciousness, El Chamuco did his best to search around the room for any changes. He checked her crib and the numerous toys she slept with nightly. Previously, that had proved to be an issue. Two nights ago she had dropped her favorited stuffed dog, her favorite cuddling toy, on the ground. It was hard to miss, since it was nearly her size, and she instantly quieted the second El Chamuco put it back in her arms. He checked the parameter of the crib, and found each and every single one of her toys in place. He even noticed that the stuffed dog was right beside where she normally rested, so that was not the case.

He checked the room for any shadows that might frighten her, for he remembered that her and Iktan were once terrified of the shadow that was cast by the dresser in combination with the trees outside. One night when he and La Noche stepped in, they were nearly startled themselves, and had that fixed right away. There seemed to be nothing of the sort on the walls. The moon gave perfect illumination into the room, and the twins had not showed any aversion to the shadows after that first incident.

He cuddled his daughter against his purple silk robe and kissed her head. By now she had quieted down just slightly, but she continued to emit tiny cries and whimpers. El Chamuco lowered himself down onto the nursery couch and wrapped a woven quilt over the both of them, his warmth encompassing all of her.

He could only infer that she must have had a bad dream or a nightmare of some sorts. She was shaking just slightly, but it could also be the effect of her having such a small body and such powerful lungs. He could only hope to console her at this point until she realized that she was awake and in the real world. For babies, that sounded like quite a ridiculous concept to understand.

Very gently, he stroked the back of her head, along with the short locks of hair that resembled her mother. Her head leaned back into his huge palm, and she finally opened her wet eyes to gaze at her father. He once again kissed her on the forehead reassuringly, just to give the physical sensation of his presence. Her big blue eyes were still brimming with tears and she shallowly caught her breath, choking up on tiny cries every now and then.

Trying to keep his own eyes open, the god watched his daughter intently, and suddenly noticed that her eyes began to dart back and forth from the huge nursery window to him. Back and forth they went, and sometimes they would linger on the window for a little longer. Sporadically, she would let out a sharp whine, getting really flustered underneath the bedsheets. El Chamuco slowly wrapped her up in the inner part of his robe and stood, curiously making his way towards the window. He peered at the forest and then beyond. He examined the wild-life, the skies, and the beaming moon. Itzel hid her face away against his body, and he patted her back as he felt her tremble again.

 _The skies are starting to get cloudy,_ he thought. Thicker clouds traveled faster past the moon. In an instant, Itzel exploded into sobs, and immediately following was rumble of thunder and a bolt of lightning. Then came the rain.

Naturally, the loud noises woke Iktan up as well. He didn’t sob as loudly as his twin sister had, but nonetheless he began to whine and twist within the crib. El Chamuco lifted him with his free hand and bounced him lightly, just enough to have him settle down. His eyes fixed back towards the window, but sat back down on the couch in thought. Could Itzel’s crying have caused the new storm?

He doubted it. Her cries would have been causing storms for the last month if that was the case, but the Land of the Unknown had not had a full on rain-storm in several weeks, at least four before La Noche had given birth. Besides, Itzel had been crying for half an hour before the storm had hit, which wouldn’t imply causation of storms either.

He laid back on the couch tiredly, each of the twins in his arms. Iktan had silenced, but he also had a hard time falling asleep next to his sniffling sister. El Chamuco placed her on his chest and wrapped the blanket over them once more, keeping a hand on her back.

“Does the thunder scare you, _mijita?_ ” he asked quietly. “But you cried out before it even hit…”

Then it dawned upon him.

Could she have sensed the oncoming storm?

He pondered it in the back of his mind as he continued to calm her down. The intensity of her cries varied, and she only began to silence herself once the rain hit the windowpane less and less. Eventually, although the storm had not completely passed, Itzel had begun falling back asleep in the comforting hands of her father.

Unlike the storm, El Chamuco passed out the second he got the chance.

~~~

On the fourth morning, La Noche expected to find her husband back in bed next to her. She tossed her flowing hair behind her as she sat up, forgetting how cold the bed could get when El Chamuco wasn’t by her. The last time she remembered him being gone in the morning was when he was visiting the Land of the Cursed, and that was during the warmer months.

She got up and scurried over to her closet, pulling out one of her husband’s lava robes. She quickly tossed the huge thing over her shoulders, feeling warmer instantly. She stepped into her slippers and then made her way to the nursery.

She only noticed the remaining rain drops on the outer window once she stepped into the nursery, for she hadn’t waken up during the thunderstorm. Her eyes then focused on the couch, where El Chamuco laid covered in a huge quilt. Itzel was comfortably curled up on her father’s chest, sandwiched in the perfect level of heat. Iktan had fallen into the curve of El Chamuco’s wing and laid there splayed out lazily, like one would on a hammock.

La Noche stifled a giggle and walked over towards them, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on her husband’s forehead. He stirred just lightly, but it wasn’t enough to wake him up. Rather than disturbing them, she merely smiled and slid out of the room as quietly as possible, closing the door behind her and calling on the servants to make preparations for breakfast.

In near perfect timing, El Chamuco came down to the dining hall, both twins awake and in hand. He looked confused to see her in his under-armor robes, since his shoulders were at least twice her span. He yawned and stretched his wings, fixing his grip on Iktan while coming towards the table.

La Noche smiled at him. “Looks like someone’s had an eventful night.”

“Tell me about it,” he replied with a another yawn. Itzel reached for her mother and wined a little. La Noche picked her up with both hands and kissed her gently on the nose.

“ _Buenos dias, chiquitita!_ ” she said light-heartedly, and Itzel giggled in response. “Did you like cuddling with papa?”

Their daughter only giggled again and La Noche grinned, sitting down the breakfast table. El Chamuco rubbed his eyes and sat across from her, leaning back into the velvet chair.

“You know, _Luna_ ,” he began tiredly. “I’m partially grateful that I’ve got night duty this week.”

La Noche playfully raised an eyebrow while she reached for her cup of chocolate. “Oh? The bags under your eyes beg to differ.”

He glared at her for a solid few seconds, but then smirked. “I was lucky enough to discover our daughter’s first power.”

La Noche looked confused. “This young? You’re bluffing, _Diablito_.”

“Oh if only. I think she can predict the weather.”

“And what could have possibly given you that idea in the middle of the night?”

He reached for a crisp piece of bacon and bit into it. Iktan smelled it immediately and reached for it curiously. El Chamuco jokingly put the strip by his mouth, until he heard a scolding “No” from his wife. He chuckled at finished the piece off, Iktan whining ever so disappointingly.

El Chamuco continued. “Did you wake up to the storm last night?”

La Noche shook her head. “I didn’t, but I noticed traces of it on our windows this morning.”

“Well, our poor girl is scared of thunder. But she woke up because she knew the storm was coming. And she cried right before the thunder struck.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t some strange coincidence?”

He shrugged in return. “I doubt it.”

La Noche felt Itzel tugging at the robes, and she pulled them down in order to feed her. “Chamuco, this isn’t something to take lightly! If that’s really the case, then this is important!”

“You were calling me bluff just a second ago!”

“I need to know if it’s true! Having powers at her age is phenomenal. La Muerte and I didn’t begin to exhibit our powers until we began crawling, according to papa. I thought it was going to be something… well… rather idiotic, to tell you the truth. Just to get me to change the bet that you lost.”

“Well, that could be arranged as well-“

“Chamuco!”

He laughed and reached for a date.

La Noche rolled her eyes and fixed her robes again once Itzel had finished feeding. She smiled at her daughter and wiped the excess milk from her cheek. “So papa says you have powers, huh baby?”

Itzel only gurgled adorably.


	15. Gardening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange flowers are appearing in La Muerte's garden...

La Muerte never remembered planting irises, but as she strolled through the garden on that hot morning, they seemed to be more abundant than any plant. She couldn’t remember if she ever instructed her groundskeepers and gardeners to plant any, but she didn’t recall it at all. For the last few weeks she had not noticed the single flowers blooming here or there, but yesterday it suddenly occurred to her that her garden was crowded with them. She touched the petals, and they felt thick yet light between her fingers, a sign of good health. The colors were radiant, ranging from apricot-orange to yellow. Amongst the patches she found several black and purple ones. La Muerte plucked one stem and examined the flower delicately. It was not dead nor dying; it was just as healthy as the others. She had seen irises this color before, but they were rare, and she had never imagined they would end up in her garden.

She giggled a little, but then smelled the flower in her hand and smiled blissfully.  _Xibalba probably wanted to surprise me with these… How sweet_ …

She knelt down to the patch and leaned over to where she had plucked the black iris, slowly setting the flower down as its roots sunk back into the ground and it resurrected. Standing, she fixed the marigolds in her hair and turned, heading back to the palace.

La Muerte lurked through the halls when she heard the clashing of metal coming from within her auxiliary throne room. As she pushed open the doors, she saw Xibalba standing quite idly, the only intense movements from his armed hand. Young Victor was practically sweating before him, a sword in his hand, swinging tactfully at the god. Xibalba took a step back and overturned his sword, which pressed down upon the kid’s blade and knocked it out of his hands.

“You’re getting faster, but not fast enough,” the god said, sheathing his weapon. “It’s not me you’ll be wanting to impress, it’s the Commander over in the Land of the Heroic.”

Victor tossed his black hair back and picked up his sword. “How do I get faster?”

“Focus on your enemy’s weapon more than your own. Unless you’re a complete idiot, your sword won’t be the one potentially killing you.”

Victor nodded, and then noticed La Muerte standing by the door. He bowed respectfully, which made Xibalba turn as well.

The goddess chuckled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, my lady,” Victor replied, sheathing his sword. “I was just finishing.

“No trouble, Victor,” she replied, looking at her husband. “It’s all going very well, I see?”

“He’s good,” Xibalba said. “He’s got another few weeks before he’s sent off. I have high hopes.”

Victor smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, sir. Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time tomorrow.”

The boy waved to both gods and ran out the door. La Muerte smiled and closed the doors behind her, walking over to her husband.

“This is a good thing you’re doing, you know that?”

Xibalba chuckled. “Have you forgotten? I don’t do good things.”

La Muerte laughed. “No, you’re right. You’re absolutely evil. The most evil man I’ve ever met.”

She reached up and kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck. He smiled and curled his arms around her lower back, just above her hips.

“You seem incredibly happy,” he noted. “Did I do something right accidentally?”

She laughed. “I was going to say, the irises were a beautiful surprise. How did you do that without me knowing?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do what without you knowing?”

“This irises in the garden! Did you plant them yourself or did you get the gardeners to do it. They’re absolutely beautiful.”

He pulled his arms away and stepped back, looking confused. “ _Muertita_ … I didn’t do that.”

“You didn’t?”

“Well, part of me  _wishes_  I did.” He paused and mumbled under his breath. “Damn.”

La Muerte creased her brow bone. “That doesn’t make sense… you don’t think one of the gardeners planted them by mistake?”

Xibalba shrugged. “I doubt you can plant flowers by  _mistake._ Let alone when you’ve never harvested the seeds for them in the first place.” He touched her arm. “But I don’t know anything about gardening, maybe you should, I don’t know,  _speak to the gardener?_ ”

She nodded and kissed him. “I will. I’ll see you for dinner,  _Balbi_.”

He smiled at her and she left the room, heading straight down to meet the gardener.

Upon arrival, she knocked on the door to the gardener's shack. He answered, a tall and lanky member of the undead. He bowed and tipped his hat to her.

"My queen," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Alveraz, I have to ask you something very important." She stepped in further. "The irises in the garden, did you plant them? Or do you know anyone that did?"

"The irises? My lady, I didn't plant them... I thought you did. I didn't question it because I thought they were a beautiful choice..."

"I didn't plant them." 

"I can't think of anyone else who would have. Possibly the Lady Micteca when she was here?"

"My mother wouldn't take interest in my garden. Not to this extent anyway."

"Then I cannot help you, my Lady. I apologize."

La Muerte sighed. "Thank you anyway, Alveraz."

He nodded and tipped his hat again. "Anything, my lady."

~~~

As La Muerte entered the library, she lit all the surrounding candles with a single snap of her fingers. It was already darkening outside, and she told her husband that she'd be on her way to bed just as soon as she took her medication. She didn't tell him that she would be making a short stop along the way to the doctor's room.

The irises were on her mind all day, the thought of them fermenting like a tempting wine. She asked the majority of her staff and servants whether they had any idea of how the flowers came to be. She had no coherent answer, but one of the maids suggested research. La Muerte remembered her father's strange rose garden, where the petals changed at will, or with his. She contemplated if he had possibly planted them, but some of the flowers she examined were over a month old, so they had bloomed prior to his visit. The irises were also incredibly long lasting, and suddenly quick blooming. She had never seen such a thing. Possibly one of her books would have an answer.

La Muerte trailed along the educational shelves and found her collected section of literature on herbs and plants. She rarely picked it up in all her years, only on occasion. Her fingers traced the spines of each book, pressing into the imprinted titles. They stopped when she reached the first book of an encyclopedic collection.

_"Flowers, Herbs, Plants, and Their Meanings"._

One by one, La Muerte pulled out each of the books and checked the front and the back covers, seeing which letters began and ended each volume. She had opened six volumes before finding the right one.

She waved her hand over the book and turned the pages, searching the headers for any words that "iris" would come between. She nearly missed it when she found the picture. Her fingers traced the description and she mumbled to herself.

"Irises are usually the bearers of a specific message..."

She skimmed over the origin history, the common locations, the ideal growth conditions, and all of the trivial information. At the very bottom of the entry was a beautifully italicized paragraph, written in the finest script she had ever seen. 

"Irises can be associated with the ancient legend of the Lady Andromena, an old goddess from the west. She used the iris flower to confide the message of her first pregnancy, and sent the essences of that iris to her lord husband who was off far at war. He received the iris essence and depicted the message from his wife, and returned home shortly after. The irises that grew in her garden became a symbol for her and the child. Several other goddesses throughout various pantheon reported having irises grow in their gardens as signs for major life changes, but pregnancy has seemed to be the most common.”

La Muerte shut the book quickly and her eyes widened.

“But I’m not…”

She dropped the book with a loud “thud” and bolted out the door.

~~~

Doctor Mecca was just fixing up La Muerte’s nightly concoction when he heard the knock at the door. As expected, the Queen was standing there, as per usual. This time though, the look on her face was distraught, and tiny beats of sweat came down the sides of her face. The doctor fixed his glasses and took a step back to allow the lady inside.

“My lady?” he asked, quite concerned. “Is everything alright? Have you found the answer to your iris mystery?”

“I may have…” La Muerte said frantically, taking his hands pleadingly. “Doctor, I know this is quite informal, but I need you to test me. I… I honestly think…”

He nodded compliantly and pulled away, gesturing to his own bed for her to lie down upon. “What could have prompted such a conclusion? Have you begun experiencing any symptoms?”

La Muerte shook her head. “It is the irises. I’ve read about it. They sometimes appear in the gardens of women who are experiencing life changes. Pregnancy is… the most common one.”

Doctor Mecca nodded understandingly and rolled up his sleeve. His hand hovered over La Muerte’s flat abdomen, and he closed his eyes and concentrated. The Queen laid there impatiently, trying her best to calm down and prepare herself for the worst of news.

The Doctor sighed and shook his head, pulling his hand away.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” he said apologetically. “I cannot sense anything…”

She reached forward and grabbed his arm, her eyes pleading. 

“Please doctor… try one more time.” He saw her nearly in tears. “If those irises aren’t a sign then what could it be? Can we try a longer test? A more intense one? Anything at all?”

He again fixed his glasses and let out a breath, nodding to her. “I can try one more time. Try relaxing more, so maybe I can see through your aura as well. I’ve never needed to do it, but it might help.”

La Muerte abided and laid back down, resting her hands peacefully to each side of her and closing her eyes. She let out a nervous breath, but kept her heartbeat steady. The Doctor stretched his fingers and hovered his hand once more, focusing deeply as possible on the task at hand.

The tension in the room seemed to manipulate time itself. Seconds seemed like minutes. What turned into minutes seemed like hours. Around the three minute mark of pure silence, Doctor Mecca was ready to give up.

Until he noticed a faint, blue light coming from underneath his hand.

He nearly froze himself as the light grew more prominent: the sign of a successful reading. In this case, it was a positive pregnancy test.

The shock and excitement in his voice was prominent. “My lady…”

La Muerte’s eyes opened and she stared up at him in hope. “Did it work? Doctor??”

He smiled brightly, grabbing both of her hands excitedly. “My lady, you’re with child!”

La Muerte felt lighter than air. She dreamt of hearing those words for the last year or so. Now that she heard them, she wasn’t sure of what to say back.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she leapt forward to embrace the doctor, something she didn’t even consciously think of doing. He was stunned, but hugged her back nonetheless. She pulled away and laughed, the happy tears now streaming down her flushed cheeks.

“I… I can’t believe it… How did we miss it?”

“It was a very faint signal, my lady… it was hiding under your aura. Although I do admit it’s never happened before, that’s why it must have taken so long to detect! Maybe the aura of the baby had just gotten stronger… it appears to be two months after conception!”

In some essence, she didn’t care what the excuse was. Now she knew.

All that’s left was for her husband to find out.

~~~

She sped up to her bedroom and walked in just as Xibalba was tossing on his nightly robes. He turned to her, a little confused.

“Is everything alright,  _mi amor_?” he asked, locking up his armor. “It’s been nearly ten minutes.”

He stared into her puffed up eyes and noticed tear stains against her cheeks. Quickly he came over and grabbed her hands. “What happened??”

There was a moment of silence, followed by her lighthearted giggle. Her hands flew to her face and she grabbed his shoulders.

“Xibalba, we did it.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Did what?”

She nearly shook him, tears flowing from her eyes again happily. “Xibalba, I’m pregnant.”

The words took a while to process. At first, he stood there confused, as if he didn’t understand her. But as he decoded his thoughts he found himself frozen, unsure if he was dreaming or not. Slowly but surely he broke, chuckling and touching his wife’s cheek.

“You’re absolutely serious?” he asked quietly.

La Muerte nodded and let out a spurted laugh, the happiness in her wet eyes radiating. He grabbed her and cuddled her, laughing as she did.

“Oh  _mi amor…_ this is amazing. You… you’re…”

She giggled, but composed herself slightly. “I’m two months along.”

Xibalba grinned brightly and swept her up into his arms, dipping her backwards and kissing her. She laughed and kissed him back.

“Oh I can’t believe it…” he said through a chuckle. But quickly he paused, fixing his hold on her. “Hold on just a second. Two months?? You’ve been pregnant for two months?? And we just figured this out?”

La Muerte giggled. “He said he couldn’t see past my aura on the previous readings.”

Xibalba scoffed. “Some doctor.”

She rolled her eyes and touched his cheek. “Shut up,  _Balbi_.”

She kissed him again before he could argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I made up the ENTIRE mythology thing.


	16. Devils and Dragons (a. k. a. "The El Chamuco Chapter")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have seen an older story of mine, Devils and Dragons. So I've merged it into this universe! This won't be the last you see of these people, that's all I'm saying.

     El Chamuco was rarely a sympathetic being. He hadn’t been one as an angel, and he definitely wasn’t one as a god. He supposed that it came with the job, being the Devil, the punisher, the ruler of the Land of the Cursed. His family was an exception, of course. His wife and his two children were resting comfortably in the comfortably in the Land of the Unknown. Unfortunately, he had to leave for one of his usual realm check-ins. And this was the first time he had been away since the birth of the twins, and although he knew he would miss them like crazy, he didn’t think they’d be on his mind all the time.

     He wasn’t bothered by the thought of his family, rather, he was distracted. Being deaf to the screams of the suffering souls, and immune to the intense heat, nothing occupied his attention anymore. He spent his time strolling through the torture chambers, poking and prodding at the doomed souls, sending messages by raven back to the Unknown, or sleeping.

     And it had only been two days.

     On the third day he awoke in his magma bed chamber and stared at his armor hanging on the mannequin. Rather than pulling himself from the bed and trudging down to breakfast, he propped his bony arms beneath him and angled himself just a bit. His eyes studied the designs of his armor and trident, paying particular attention to their overlying themes.

     Dragons.

     He had been more closely associated with the weyr that lived in the mountains of the Land of the Cursed before his marriage to La Noche, but that was to be expected. Back when this realm was his main place of residence, he spent most of his time amongst their clan, speaking to the elders that had presided there since the time of the ancient gods. They taught him how to discover and control his then-new powers, how to take full advantage of his flame wings, and overall, granted him sovereignty as their king. El Chamuco never expressed pretention towards them. At times he even questioned how he could consider himself equal to creatures wiser than he could ever hope to be.

The armor he wore daily, in addition to his prized trident, had been forged by the four elders of the weyr in the deep magma of the volcanoes where they resided, which were on the outskirts of El Chamuco’s realm. His shoulder plates were detailed dragon heads, with a third composing the plate body. His trident was much the same, one head adorning the base of each of the three spearheads.

As the Lord of the Cursed rose that morning, he fixed his purple robes, a gift from La Noche from their very first anniversary, and passed the mannequin, stepping out onto the railed balcony of his bedroom. He stared at the collection of moutains ranging on the outskirts, reminding himself of the terrain. He had not been there in centuries, considering his devotion to his wife, her realm, and sheer forgetfulness.

Returning inside, Chamuco slipped off his nightly robes and put on his knightly ones, suiting up with his armor to finish. He decided it was time for a long overdue visit.

But not without breakfast first.

~~~

     After he suited up, the god flew over the Land of the Cursed, getting a full aerial view of his realm. Sometimes he forgot just how unpleasant of a place is was to be. Even the least intense of the fires here were hotter than the hottest lava in the Land of the Living. His armor had been forged in the hottest here, and he secretly admitted that standing in that volcano felt a little warm.

     There was a time right after he had gained the Land of the Cursed in which he had no idea how to manipulate his wings. The first time he flew towards the mountains, it took him ages. These days, he swore he flew faster than the speed of light. His own brother couldn’t beat him. But then again, Xibalba didn’t have dragons to train him. As he flew over the landscapes, he thought of his son, Iktan. He couldn’t wait to teach that little one how to fly.

     His landing was smooth, stealthy, and completely unexpected by the rest of the weyr. He stood on a cliff ledge, overlooking the valleys of the mountains before him, just where the clan had marked their borders. He swore there had never been this many dragons in the realm before, yet he was in no position to be surprised. He had not visited the valleys in ages. If reproduction was successful for him, it must’ve been successful for them too. Not to mention, they were pretty much the top of the food chain. Living creatures in the realms of the dead were a strange oxymoron, but if the Creator had intended it to be that way, then so be it.

     Heads turned as they noticed El Chamuco’s arrival. Strangely enough he noticed several familiar faces. Dragons were very unique in style, just as unique as the gods themselves in design. He recognized some by name, everything coming back to him. Suddenly, the god felt a shaking of the ground and a wind pressing above him. Gigantic, crimson wings hovered over him, and four sharp claws landed on the ground beside him. He turned his head, recognizing the familiar figure.

     “El Chamuco,” the old dragon spoke. “What a surprise to see you.”

     “Elendewil,” El Chamuco greeted with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

     “What occasion marks such a spontaneous arrival?”

     “If I am to be truthful,” he chuckled. “I’m on a week long visit and I got extremely bored.”

     Elendewil rolled his eyes along with flashing a reptilian smirk. “Of course.”

     “I hope you’re not offended.”

     “Me? Offended? Absolutely.”

     “Absolutely?”

     “Absolutely.”

     The both of them laughed. To El Chamuco, it was as if he had seen him just the other day.

     The old dragon shook his head lightheartedly. “Come inside the caverns, I’m sure the rest of the elders would be happy to see you.”

     “Are you sure?” the god joked as they walked off.

     Elendewil glanced at him. “You’re ridiculously giddy, what’s gotten into you?”

     “What? I’m not allowed to be in good spirits?”

     “I never said you weren’t _allowed_ , I just want to know _why_.”

     “So news hasn’t reached this far into the realm?”

     “I’m afraid we don’t have much contact with any of your subjects. Besides, aren’t all of them burning for eternity?”

     “Good point.” He smiled to himself a little, but he was unsure why.

     “Mind telling me what _news_ you have, exactly?”

     “How about I tell all of you when we’re inside.”

     Elendewil shook his head. “I’m not arguing.”

     El Chamuco chuckled and followed the elder dragon down into the caverns. Rivers of bright lava illuminated the interior, and a large hot spring pool was located towards the back. El Chamuco saw each of the elders attending to their own. Once there had been four, including Elendewil. Now he noticed six. While they were elders themselves, they were just slightly younger than the others he had come to know so well. Despite that, he recognized them.

     The five of them looked up as El Chamuco and Elendewil entered through the cavern opening. From the far left, the golden dragon peered up from her resting position. El Chamuco recognized her immediately and read the happiness off her face. She was a probably one of his biggest influences, his most important mentors, and best friends he had ever made.

     Adelinda.

~~~

_“Lord Chamuco, is it?” he asked, his voice deeper than the god had anticipated. “What brings you here.”_

_El Chamuco was slightly taken aback; he understood them completely. “You speak my language?”_

_“Rather,” the smoke-colored one, the one they called Meraxis, replied. “You speak ours. You are a creature of fire, are you not?”_

_The gods glanced aside for a second in contemplation, and then peered back at the four. “I am, so it seems. Do forgive me, I’ve much to learn. I guess you can say that’s why I am here.”_

_A female voice arose. The one known Adelinda, with scales a deeper shade of shimmering gold, spoke. “What character you have, Lord Chamuco. How does one like you end up in a place such as this?”_

_The fourth interlude, the dark red one known as Ehecatl. “We were expecting someone a bit more… depressing, if you will.”_

_“The courage to show your face in here,” Meraxis added. “Is notable.”_

_El Chamuco took in a tense breath, thinking of a good reply. “I was cast aside from my position as an officer in a knightly brigade led by the powers on high. My brother and I were both punished by fire. Then the gods found us to be the candidates to rule these realms. My punishment was…slightly more severe.”_

_“You are wrong, young lord,” Adelinda said, lying down on the hot rocks comfortably. The others noticed that she was already content with the god. “You have not been punished by fire. You’ve been blessed by it.”_

_“She is right,” Elendewil agreed, resting next to her. “Sacred fires only burn when those who cast it intend to injure. Instead, your punishment has changed you.”_

~~~

He grinned.

     “It is such a pleasure to see you.”

     The female elder let out an amused chuckled as she came forward to greet him.

     “I was wondering what sort of fate might bring you back to us.” Adelinda smiled at him. “But it is good to see you as well.”

     He came forward and greeted the others. As Elendewil took his seat beside his mate, El Chamuco himself found a raised ledge to sit on. He overlooked the cavern and his companions there, feeling more relaxed and casual.

     “So what is this news you intended on keeping so silent about?” Elendewil asked, curiously watching the god.

     “Oh there’s news, is there?” Meraxis chimed in facetiously. “Good news? Bad news? News that doesn’t apply to us at all?”

     “Hush now,” Adelinda scolded. “Chamuco, you don’t owe us any explanation. Running multiple realms isn’t easy. If it was, I’m almost sure that the old gods wouldn’t have retired.”

     El Chamuco chuckled. “Oh I’m sure. But they’ve come to visit La Noche and I more recently, given the new additions to the family.”

     There was a quick second of estranged silence. The dragoness, of course, was the first to catch on.

     “So you finally have children!” she exclaimed. “Well that’s fantastic!”

     The god smiled. “Twins, to be exact. About two months ago my wife and I welcomed a baby boy and a baby girl. Itzel is my daughter, and Iktan is my son.”

     Elendewil snickered. “No wonder you were so cheery outside. Your entire life revolves around infants.”

     “Well it’d be an understatement to say that they’ve changed me.”

     “I for one think it’s exquisite news,” Ehecatl declared. “Each of your realms is guaranteed an heir. And if I am predicting correctly, your daughter will inherit the Land of the Unknown from her mother, and your son will inherit this land from you.”

     El Chamuco casually twisted his trident in his hand. “Part of me is unsure if that is a fate I want for him.”

     “You aren’t being rational,” Elendewil said. “Have you forgotten everything we’ve taught you? This realm isn’t a prison for you, it’s only a prison for those petty souls that have tied themselves here. I’m sure your son will grow up to be just as good an executor and ruler as you are.”

     “I understand,” the god replied. “Yet something still makes me unnerves me, being that Iktan is, well, _my son._ ”

     Adelinda flashed him a compassionate smile. “You’re allowed to worry about these things. It says a lot about you as a father. And I’m sure the children are going to grow up to be angels.”

     El Chamuco laughed. “Oh how ironic.”

     She chuckled in reply. “They must be absolutely precious. Have you any plans to have them visit, along with your wife?”

     He shook his head. “I don’t know if they’ll be down here any time soon. We are not quite sure how resistant Itzel is to the heat. Iktan should be just fine, but he is too young to see such things, even if I was only to bring them to present them the the weyr.”

     “Is there any way you could show them to us, regardless?” she asked.

     Ehecatl sat up casually and stretched his neck. “Would he be able to create a reflector from the hot spring water? I’m sure it’s the same principle as the faces in the fire.”

     “He is right,” Meraxis added. “And the water acts as a projector of sorts.”

     Adelinda looked towards the god. “Go on, give it a try.”

     El Chamuco nodded and stood, curling his fingers around his trident. As he had manipulated lava before, he concentrated on the pool of water. The steams cleared off and he focused on his memories as they manifested into a reflection. Adelinda turned her attention towards the pool, followed by the others, as the picture cleared.

     The dragoness smiled genuinely as she began to notice a recent memory of his appear. The twins were both lying on the carpeted floor of the nursery, bundled up in knit onesies La Noche had made for them. Iktan was yawning and stretching his wings, while Itzel laid comfortably on a mound of her soft, black hair.

     “Oh my…” she replied softly, as if she was worried to wake them. “They’re adorable…”

     El Chamuco flew down and stood by her side, smiling proudly at the image manifested before him.

     “I know.”


	17. Dress Sizes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been a while since I updated, but life's been insane. Just have to say that this chapter was really hard, and honestly, I'm really proud of it. It wouldn't be half as good if I didn't have the help of ArstyPaige, the-musical-cc, and Zabchan. Definitely giving them credit.

** Chapter 17 (Dress Sizes) **

     La Muerte slipped on her silky orange robe over her nightgown and reached for the thin belt to tie it together. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she was tying it, and realized that just slightly left from the center of her abdomen, the fabric was creased. That was where she usually tied the belt, but for the first time she stopped to discover that her stomach had, in fact, gotten a little bigger. It came from the habit of never glancing at herself in a mirror for something as simple as tying a silk belt around herself, but curiously she decided to do so that night. Since the first trimester of her pregnancy was nearing an end, La Muerte had come to terms with the fact that a growing waistline was unavoidable.

     She turned to the side and observed the slightest change in her figure. Her stomach had the slightest bump, but if she stood perfectly erect she would be able to hide it with an ornamented cover or something of that sort. She often fantasized about such a thing before she had conceived, and she thought she would accept these changes easily. Instead, she grimaced in slight disappointment. Never in her life had her stomach been anything but flat.

     She tossed herself onto their bed and laid sideways, watching as her husband dressed himself in his nightly robes and hid away his ‘forgotten’ armor. Her face was somber but troubled him as he turned back to meet her eye.

     “Is everything alright, _mi amor_?” Xibalba asked quietly, coming around to his side of the bed.

     She continued to lay on her side, her eyes staring blankly at the wall.

     “Do you think I’m getting fat?”

     Xibalba had been around for eons. He had heard this all over the land of the living from expecting women over the course of many years. He just never expected hearing such a statement from his wife.

     “Darling, I am no expert in such matters,” he replied as he crawled into bed. “But I’m more than sure that once you’re pregnant, you’re supposed to start, appearing, well, _bigger._ ”

     “You are right… but… this soon?”

     “ _Muertita,_ you’re nearing the end of your first term, according to the doctor.” The god wrapped his arm over his wife’s waist. “Besides, I don’t see a downside. I think you look rather _adorable_.”

     La Muerte blushed and peeked back over her shoulder. “Adorable?”

     “You know I stumbled across a book recently that explained how signs of fertility make a woman more attractive in a man’s eyes.” He chuckled lowly. “And you are definitely one attractive woman…”

     She blushed and giggled as she snuggled into her pillow, melting against her husband’s touch.

     “Why do you know exactly what to say sometimes?” she replied smugly. She smiled and nestled deep into her bed, feeling as Xibalba’s fingers ‘walked’ along her abdomen.

     “I can’t even imagine what your parents are thinking right now,” Xibalba chuckled, trying to appeal to her sense of humor.

     Rather, La Muerte’s eyes cracked wide open and she sat up quickly, breathing heavily.

     “My parents?!?!”

     Xibalba followed her up and worriedly grabbed her arms.

     “La Muerte, are you nuts?? Calm down, I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby…”

     The goddess closed her eyes and stabilized her breathing. She felt her panic subsiding and regained control of herself.

     “Xibalba, I haven’t told my parents…” she confessed, rather regrettably.

     “You haven’t??” The god felt bewildered. “But you tell your parents _everything!_ Sometimes I wish you told them much less!”

     “Xibalba this has been a ridiculously stressful few months!” she retorted in defense. “It was always on my mind to find a special way to tell them and I’ve completely forgotten!”

     “Well that’s not my problem!”

     In an instant heard a clap and immediately following felt a stinging sensation on the side of his face. The smell of marigolds lingered faintly behind, and he found that La Muerte’s eyes were not in the most pleasant of glares.

     “Well thanks for your support!”

     “ _Mi amor…_ ” he said sheepishly. “You know that your father and I don’t get along. But, in my _humble_ opinion, keeping this from your parents any longer is a bad idea. And this is coming from a man _full_ of bad ideas.”

     La Muerte sighed and crossed her arms across her stomach. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re right.”

     He rubbed her upper arm comfortingly, his fingers gently massaging her. “Do what your sister did. That would take...what, five seconds?”

     “I don’t want to write them just a letter!” she scoffed. “And I’m not my sister. I’ve happened to maintain a relatively good relationship with my parents these last few years, and I’m not disinclined to invite them over.”

     Xibalba bit his lip uncomfortably, but after catching the determined gaze in his wife’s eyes, he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.

     “Alright, _mi amor_ , whatever you say.”

     La Muerte let out a calmed breath and lowered her head back onto her pillow, facing toward edge of the bed. She felt her husband watching her, but didn’t pay mind. Her hand absentmindedly grazed over her stomach and she let out a tired sigh.

     “The problem is,” she muttered to herself. “My father still doesn’t like you.”

_~~~ Ometeopl, the Palace of Death, Midday~~~_

     “MICTECA!”

     “MICTLAN!”

     The birds all squawked and flew in their flock from the windows and scattered into the numerous trees around the palace.

     “MY ROBE!”

     “MY WINE!”

     The elder gods stared at one another in complete shock and disgrace as they stood confronted at the threshold of their library. Micteca fixated her stance in an erect manner, holding a nearly empty chalice. Mictlan however, glared down at his pure white robe, now stained down the front with blood red wine.

     “This robe was a gift!” he complained. “And there is no way this is ever going to get out!”

     “You have powers for crying out loud!” she retorted. “Use magic! Of course it’s going to come out!”

     He glared at her. “What feather did you pair it with?”

     “I dropped in two owl feathers and half a raven feather to spice it up.”

     “TWO OWL?” Mictlan was nearly in hysterics. “It’d be hard enough to re-enchant anything under one owl essence, let alone two!” He groaned. “I’ll have to burn it. What a waste.”

     Micteca rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, drinking whatever was left of her wine. “What a waste of a good wine is more like it. We have an entire room in this palace dedicated to your robes.”

     “Don’t act like we don’t have a similar room for wine.,” he grimaced, fumbling with the fabric. “This won’t do at all.”

     Micteca raised an eyebrow as she watched her husband slip off the top of the robe, revealing his rib cage.

     “Haven’t seen that in a while,” she said under her breath.

     All of a sudden there came a knocking at one of their windows, followed by a shriek from Mictlan as he attempted to clutch his stained robe over his exposed chest. Micteca could only roll their eyes as she walked over and opened the pane for one of their messenger ravens.

     “Pull yourself together, Mictlan,” she said, taking the scroll from the bird’s leg and unraveling it.

     Mictlan tossed his robe over his arm. “What have we there?”

     “It seems that our daughter has invited us to dinner.”

     Mictlan cocked a brow bone. “Mind telling me _which_ daughter?”

     “La Muerte.”

     “Oh her cooks are the best,” he grinned. “Come on, shall we call for the carriage?”

     “Uh… Mictlan…”

     The god and goddess exchanged looks; he gestured out of confusion.

     Micteca shook her head. “Go and put a robe on please.”

~~~

     As the bone carriage pulled up to the castle of the Remembered, La Muerte stood at the front of the yard. Two of her remembered servants opened the cage doors and her parents exited. She immediately hugged her father, lost in his dark navy robe.

     Mictlan hugged her back eagerly. “Oh darling, you have us come out here so often, you might as well take us out of retirement!”

     La Muerte grinned and giggled slightly. “Papa, I just think that now’s a good time for you to come out. You and mama can’t tell me that you really enjoy endlessly sitting up in Ometeopl for decades on end.”

     He laughed. “ _Mijita,_ you know I’d give any reason to come down to see both you and your sister.”

     “You know you never need a reason to see us, papa. It’s not like we’ll ever close our doors to you.” La Muerte giggled. “But if mama’s throwing a fit we’ll lock all the entrances to the realm.”

     Mictlan chortled uproariously as his wife stepped out from the bone carriage, servants fixing the bottom of her robes. Micteca’s face was composed sternly as she eyed her husband and daughter gravely.

     “I heard that.”

     La Muerte gave a teasing sigh. “It’s good to see you too mama.”

     Micteca’s eyes scoured over her daughter, sensing that something was disparate.  There was a most meager change in La Muerte’s stature, the way she presented herself, and even the way her eyes met the ancient goddess’s own. She fixated her study on every aspect of La Muerte’s physique, seemingly slowing down time. Her daughter’s face seemed swollen and tired, and she continually fidgeted with her arms, crossing them back and forth. Micteca creased her eyebrows in thought, and consciously focused in closely around her waist. It took a nanosecond to notice the slightly tighter creasing of her dress around her stomach. As she began to pull together the pieces, her glance softened like it never had before. Keeping her composure, she approached her daughter, embracing her stiffly, as usual.

     In the first moment of their touch, the ancient goddess’s voice whispered lowly. “You’re pregnant…”

     La Muerte felt the feeling in her face disappear. “How did you know?”

     Micteca strengthened her grip just slightly to mask their conversation, giving a small shake of the head. “Your father may be oblivious but there’s no fooling me, my dear.”

     It felt like a weight off of La Muerte’s shoulders. Her mother was a difficult woman to please, and revealing a pregnancy had been fermenting in her mind like a terrible nightmare. La Muerte didn’t fear her mother for the sake of fear. She feared her mother out of love.

     Mictlan glimpsed at the two and cleared his throat.

     “May I ask where your useless dimwit of a husband is?”

     La Muerte circled swiftly to her father and felt a ting of emotions flood over her.

     “Papa! You can’t keep talking about him that way!”

     “Well why not?”

     “Because….because…”

     Micteca stepped in and sternly took her husband’s shoulder. “That’s enough, the both of you. I came here to have some fantastic food and wine and I’d much rather get to it.”

     The ancient goddess took her daughter by the arm and strutted away with her into the palace, leaving Mictlan to follow behind.

     “Out of curiosity,” she whispered. “Where is Xibalba?”

     La Muerte somewhat sighed. “He didn’t want to get in the way of papa and I… especially if I was to tell you two that I’m pregnant…”

     She received a very rare semi-sensitive glance from her mother.

     “La Muerte, I’m no expert in empathy. All I have to say is, I forgave your husband long ago. But he won’t forgive and forget unless you make him.”

     “But how? I’ve been trying to tell him for the longest time…”

     “Well, maybe, this baby will be just what you need to convince him otherwise.”

~~~

     The dining table was full of gorgeously plated dishes, with a most pleasant aroma wafting across the room. La Muerte’s chefs were some of the best who had ever lived, spending their afterlife in the Remembered willingly cooking for her and continuing their craft. They had meals from all eras, and wines ready from all centuries. The Land of the Remembered had the ultimate kitchen, crowned as the best in all of the thirteen realms.

     “Everything. Smells. _Godly_.” Mictlan grinned, twiddling his skeletal fingers semi-greedily. Micteca rolled her eyes and glanced at her daughter.

     “Thank you, darling,” she said instead, taking a seat gingerly. Sitting back, she ordered her plate be filled with more tradition corn dishes, particularly the hallaca and the nopales, and that she be given the finest wine placed on the table. Mictlan, on the other hand, served himself, as was normal for him. He took bits of everything, that way he could know just exactly what was worth getting seconds of, and what he could hold off on. Immediately, the scent of crisp, blue tortillas hit him; he simply couldn’t resist.

     La Muerte chuckled and lowered herself into a chair carefully, her back erect. Her father was not as automatic as her mother, and his attention to detail could only be turned on selectively. She forgot how tight this dress was now that she was sitting, rather uncomfortably, and was afraid that the curve of her stomach would be too evident. She smiled as she took a plate herself, loading it with her usual favorites. Suddenly, her eye caught the rib eye steak sitting in the middle of the table. It was nearly the size of her plate, and normally, much larger than any portion she could ever eat in one sitting. But at the sight, she felt her stomach rumble and her mouth watered just slightly. She had experienced only a couple of episodes of strange cravings, but this one was larger than any she had before.

     The baby definitely had the appetite of their father.

     She contemplated reaching for it, considering it would surprise both of her parents. She was a calm, picky eater, and had been one all her life. She wasn’t opposed to meats, but never had she been particularly fond of them. Her portions were always small, and she never overate. But something inside her wanted so badly to pile that rib eye onto her plate, and to hell what her parents would think. However, she was afraid of triggering Mictlan’s attention to detail, knowing that such a clue could give her condition away.

     He happened to interrupt her train of thought. “Won’t you pour yourself a chalice of wine, _mijita_? It’s such a fine dinner, you simply can’t go without it.”

     While she had been afraid of consuming a steak, the goddess forgot that her avoidance of wine would have been stingingly more significant a hint.

     “Oh, no, papa,” she replied, wringing her hands nervously. “I’d rather not today.”

     “But wine at dinner is a tradition!” he pressed on, taking a fork load of the beef and rice up to his skeletal mouth. “You’ve been drinking it with us since you’ve come of age!”

     “Papa, please,” La Muerte shook her head. “I honestly do not want any.”

     As if to make matters worse, her mother exhumed a loud, annoyed scoff.

     “Mictlantelchuti, quit pressuring your daughter.” She turned her head to the side and murmured under her breath. “Of course only you could be so oblivious.”

     Mictlan heard and turned his head towards his wife. “Oblivious to what?”

     Her face twisted in annoyance. “How can you, of all gods, not-”

     “Mother.” La Muerte interrupted sharply, a little more sharply than she had imagined in her head. She cleared her throat and placed a hand on her forearm. “Please… if you wouldn’t mind.”

     Micteca silently sat back in her chair and respected her daughter’s wish.

     Mictlan cocked an eyebrow and peered over at La Muerte. “Is everything alright darling? You seem a little on edge.”

     “Me? Papa, I’m fine. Really.” She gave a small, forced giggle. “Just have a good time, will you?”

     Mictlan nodded and reached for another tortilla, and was surprised to find that there were none left.

     “Did I really go through all of these?”

     La Muerte giggled again, but found herself genuinely happier. “It seems you did, papa. The servants will be out with more soon.”

     “Oh they take too long anyway,” he retorted, standing from the ebony chair. “I’ll get them. And while I’m at it, have a word or two with your chef. Because I’m taking some of these recipes home with me.”

     La Muerte shook her head with a smile and allowed him to dismiss himself. The second her father was out of sight, she quickly reached for the steak she had been eyeing all dinner and carved into it ravenously. The beef seemed to melt on her tongue the second she placed it in her mouth, and she closed her eyes blissfully. From the other side of the table, Micteca stared at her daughter, practically appalled.

     “My my,” she commented. “Where did that come from?”

     La Muerte glared at her as she vigorously cut another piece. “Hush, mama. I’m not going to let dad see me eat this. But I can’t deny the baby what they want either.”

     Micteca nodded halfheartedly and leaned back into her chair when her plate was empty. “How do you plan on telling your father, then?”

     La Muerte halted before eating another piece. She sighed and set her fork down. “I don’t know. I planned to tell both of you at dinner. But you figured it out. And I completely forgot that papa has the attention span of a goldfish whenever he’s sitting at the dinner table because he’s always focused everywhere else. I need us to be alone.”

     The ancient goddess noticed the distress in her daughter’s eyes. “When we finish eating, I’ll dismiss myself, maybe I’ll go and find your husband. You take him wherever you feel the most comfortable and just… just tell him, honestly. You know how your father is. Sometimes he really needs to hear the words straight from your mouth to comprehend the situation.”

     La Muerte sighed nervously and set her empty plate aside, just in time before Mictlan strutted back in.

     “You didn’t tell me blue corn tortillas were on the menu,” he joked.

~~~

     Being so distracted in conversation at the dinner table, La Muerte forgot just how much she could eat at the dinner table.

     “I don’t think I’ve had dinner this wonderful in ages,” she remarked, placing a hand over her stomach. “The chef must have pulled out all of my favorites.”

     “As well as mine,” Mictlan laughed. “This dinner was absolutely wonderful.” He leaned in closer to her. “Keep this between us, but I don’t enjoy dinners at your sister’s as much as I do here.”

     La Muerte giggled in response and smiled. “How about we go walk it off? I’ve got some new additions in the garden that I’d love to show the both of you.”

     “I’ll have to catch up with you two later,” Micteca said, excusing herself from the table. “I’ve got a few things to see to, if you don’t mind, La Muerte.”

     La Muerte’s eyes widened a bit. After a second of confusion, she realized her mother’s angle.

     “That’s fine, mama. I hope you’ll come back to us later.”

     “Of course, my dear.” Micteca gave her an encouraging look as she strutted out of the dining hall. Mictlan quizzically gazed at her, slightly confused.

     “Well, darling, I guess it’s just you and me, then.”

     “It seems so, papa.”

     La Muerte flashed him the gentlest of smiles as she took his arm and led him out the opposite exit of the dining hall. She escorted him through the corridors, attempting to keep her gait similar to her standard one. Although Mictlan was not particularly observant, she was afraid that the tightness of her dress would cause severe discomfort, and she didn’t want to make any faces. Truthfully, it was discomforting. She forgot that eating an entire rib eye was much more than she was used to, and she’d honestly like nothing more than to put on a loose night gown, lie down in bed, and take a long nap with Xibalba’s arms around her tummy.

     As they stepped into the courtyard of the garden, Mictlan inhaled a breath of the floral aroma. He was no expert when it came to plants, but given his previous experiences in the Remembered, there was a significant difference in the smell. He looked around and noticed the overwhelming flowerbeds covered with irises, some of the yellow and orange variety, others of the black and purple ones.

     “Woah, _mijita_ ,” he chuckled. “When did you have time to do all this? I doubt they’d ever grow in such multitudes.”

     La Muerte let out a tiny giggle, amused. “Well, papa, I can’t say I did this. It was… spontaneous.”

     Her father cocked his brow bone. “You spontaneously planted all of these? How bored do you get?”

     She felt a trickle of nervous sweat roll down the side of his face.

     “Papa, there’s something I really, really need to tell you.”  
     She pulled him over to a stone bench and took a seat, holding his hand. He fixed his robes and sat beside her, a concerned look sweeping across his face?

     “Is everything alright _mijita_? Don’t tell me you’re ill…”

     “I’m not, papa,” she replied, blushing as red as the fabric of her dress. She took his hands, more for her own comfort than his.

     “These flowers appeared because they represent something very, very important, papa. After all this time, I’m… well…” she smirked happily. “I’m pregnant.”

     The words hit him like a sudden gust of wind: forceful but subtle at the same time.

     “Did you say…” he repeated. “You’re pregnant?”

     In response to the growing smile on his face, she nodded happily. He gripped her hands, his eyes trailing over to her stomach. He could now recognize the stretches around her dress. He suddenly looked a little concern.

     “ _Ay mijita_ , why would you go through the trouble of wearing that?? You look beyond uncomfortable. You have to let me make you something. An entire wardrobe, if necessary-”

     La Muerte cut him off with an amused laugh as she shook her head. “I’m fine, papa. But if you want to make me something, I can’t stop you.”

     Mictlan grinned excitedly. “May I…?”

     It was a funny sensation, knowing exactly the intent of her father’s question. La Muerte nodded silently as she slowly placed his bony fingers on the barely protruding bump of her stomach. She even noticed him flutter happily, and it made her ecstatic.

     He let out a breathless, joyful gasp as he looked down at his daughter. “I can’t believe this is really happening…”

“That’s right… Xibalba and I are finally having a baby…”

It took the mere mention of his name to change the entire atmosphere. The world around her seemed to blur as the word escaped from her lips. She could no longer read the expression on her father’s face. It seemed to falter, almost, as if it deviated from the expression she had just seen. She thought her disclosure was going according to plan.

     Instead, in place of happiness, there was confusion. He was perplexed, almost as if he had not understood what she said. She wanted to believe that he hadn’t heard, and that he would simply ask her to repeat, and his expression would be fixed. There was only an uncomfortable silence.

     She swallowed nervously. “Papa? Are you alright?”

     Mictlan inhaled slowly and unhinged his jaw, as if he needed to say something for the sake of her relief. He was overjoyed at the first news, but had seemingly forgotten, in the moment, that it took two to make a child, and therefore, the child was one half of the other. Conflict overtook him, for he didn’t know what to make of this news anymore. From the first day he held her in his arms, he wanted nothing but for all her dreams and aspirations to come true. He anticipated her growing up, her marriage, her motherhood. But ever since the scandal with that trash “husband” of hers, he wasn’t sure how to foresee her future. He had a hard time believing she could ever be truly happy with someone who hurt her in such a manner, even with the level of kindness she possessed. Having a child was a certain milestone in a relationship that he deemed irreversible, and while he felt like he should be happy for her, he couldn’t bring himself thinking of this as anything but a trap.

     “ _Mijita_ … I’m going to need a few moments to think about this…”

     Without another word, he rose from the bench and strode off into the corridor from which they came. La Muerte tried to summon the courage to follow him, but she felt too weak overall to even lift herself from the bench. No longer caring about upholding her appearance, she let her stomach relax comfortably, her shoulders drooping as she brought her hands up to her face and began to hopelessly cry.

~~~

     He stormed through her decorated hallways, nearly floating rather than walking. The servants that he encountered expertly dispersed, knowing better than to get in his way. The influx of news he had been given was too much for him to comprehend at this particular moment, and personally, he felt it best to remove himself from the situation.

     Mictlan aimed for the wide front doors, reaching for the handles. Just before he could curl his fingers around them, the doors flew open. Only mildly startled, he jumped, but his disposition reverted back to bitter once he saw Xibalba standing before him.

     “Get out of my way, _cerebro de brea **[1]**,_ ” he growled, attempting to continue forward. In the sockets of his eyes there was a small, apparent glow. He stuck his arm out to push Xibalba out of his way, but was unsuccessful as the other god grabbed his wrist and shoved him back. An unprecedented action.

     “How dare you!” Mictlan yelled furiously, a product of his current state. The winds picked up around them. They flowed through Mictlan’s robes fittingly, while stung uncomfortably through the slits in Xibalba’s wings. Even the sound of the moving air broke the otherwise-silent atmosphere.

     Xibalba had never shown any particular liking to his father-in-law before, but he had to admit, he had never seen him fuming like this. La Muerte had told him of her intentions this morning, and he’d assume everything would transpire swimmingly. While he had a horrible relationship with her father, he assumed there would be over-the-moon for his precious daughter. Given Mictlan’s disposition, that obviously wasn’t the case.

     “Where do you think you’re going?” the tar god snapped. “Where’s my wife?”

     “You mean my _daughter_. Get out of my way. Or I won’t hesitate to fulfil my lifelong dream of tearing you to shreds.”

     “Go ahead.” He retorted, slamming the door shut. “But I’m not letting you leave until he until I know my _wife_ is alright.”

     Mictlan snarled. “Since when have you been concerned for her well being? Don’t pretend like your concerns come from anything but your lust for a presentable image.”

     “I’ve cared for her since the day I met her!” Xibalba defended.

     “You’ve compromised my _daughter’s_ heart, her dignity, and her love for you!” he interrupted, his voice reverberating along the walls of the enormous space. “How DARE you think that you can waltz back into her life, and take advantage of her good nature. How you can rest easy thinking that she’s completely forgiven you, and that you aren’t to be held accountable for the actions you took to corrupt her.”

     Physically, Xibalba was ready to attack him. There was a tension that vibrated through the tar of his body, a tension that he had to work hard to suppress to stop himself from squaring his father-in-law in the nose. Rather, he gripped his snake-staff tighter and stiffened.

     “Why can’t you understand that I am grateful for her forgiveness every waking moment? Especially since it’s been so long.”

     “You expect me to believe you’ve anything of a good nature? And now, you’ve trapped her with a child, powerless to do anything against should it happen that you pull another episode!”

     And that was when they heard a soft voice behind them, veiled by quieted sobs, say “Papa, that’s enough.”

~~~

     Just seconds after her father left, La Muerte broke. Everything was painful. She felt like she wanted to sob a river of tears, but wasn’t strong enough to throw her body into that kind of an emotional stimulation. The best she could do was quietly cry. She shook hopelessly on the bench, knowing she had said something wrong. She realized that it wasn’t her that her father was upset about. It was, as it always is, her husband. Whom he couldn’t respect enough to bypass as the father of the child she had tried so long to conceive. Subconsciously, she felt as if she had committed some cardinal sin, one that could never be forgiven, and that the baby she carried would never find favor with their grandfather. She knew Mictlan differently, she thought, that despite his hate for her husband he would summon the wisdom to be happy for her. She wasn’t even sure if she was reading far too into it. But it hurt nonetheless.

     Micteca strutted into the garden, finding herself in a cold yet pleased disposition. She assumed she’d find her husband with her daughter, excitedly chattering on about the baby, names, clothing, preparation, all sorts of things. But when she saw La Muerte sobbing on the bench, she was over come with a boiling anger. Her husband had the potential for messing a lot of things up. She couldn’t even imagine the damage he had done here.

     “What in the thirteen realms went on in here?” she asked, her voice minimally emotional.

     La Muerte wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “He hates it. He can’t stand the fact that Xibalba is the father… that’s how much he hates him mama…”

     Just saying it out loud make the reality far more painful. Her hands returned to her face, which was scrunched up at every hurtful tear. Micteca knew that comfort should have been her first instinct, but rather, anger overcame her. How her husband, who she considered far more affectionate than her, could conjure such a feeling.

     “Where is he?” she asked unfeelingly. She was ready to give him a piece of her furious mind.

     La Muerte shook her head in response, unable to form words.

     Taking her by the arms, her mother slowly lifted her from the bench and caught her as she weakly faltered. With a stone cold face, she wiped her daughter’s tears and lifted her chin to look at her.

     “He isn’t getting away with this, and you’re going to make sure of it.”

     La Muerte shuddered a little. “How can I-“

     “This is your child,” Micteca interrupted fiercely. “Take it from a mother, you are _always_ to protect your children.”

     The Queen of the Remembered knew better than to argue with her regal mother, and began walking out of the garden with what could be interpreted as a comforting arm around her back.

By the time mother and daughter had made their way down to the front parlor, they were surprised to see the two gods confronting one another. In her whole lifetime, La Muerte had rarely seen her father in such a state. It seemed so out of his character, as if she was looking at a stranger.

     “You expect me to believe you’ve anything of a good nature? And now, you’ve trapped her with a child, powerless to do anything against should it happen that you pull another episode!”

     And that was when she felt the need to speak up, veiled by quieted sobs.

     “Señor, that’s enough.”

     Both her husband and father immediately silenced themselves and turned to look in her direction. She stood as stoned cold as her mother, her face stained with shiny, drying tears. Micteca stood regally behind her, her eyes unmoving. While she would let her daughter speak, she was ready to step in at any moment.

     La Muerte took in a shaky breath and eyed Mictlan. The resemblance she bore to her mother way striking.

“How dare you judge the legitimacy of my marriage, papa… and how dare you decide the legitimacy of my baby.”

     “ _Mijita_ , that’s not what I-“

     “What did you mean?” she snapped. “I thought you could see past this and look at the fact that I’m pregnant. That I’m carrying a baby that’s going to be your grandchild. Shouldn’t you be happy to see another baby in your life? You let your hate for my husband overpower the person I really know you for.”

     Mictlan’s glance began to soften, begging for her empathy. “I’m only looking out for you. I saw you get hurt, and I held you while you were breaking down. Darling, I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt again. I’m not sure I would be able to see that again.”

     “I didn’t ask for you to look out for me, papa!” she cried out. “I can do that for myself! I asked you to be happy for me. You were happy for La Noche, and her children were some... some happy accident!”

     Tears began stinging her eyes again, and while her mother would not approve, she couldn’t stop them.

     “It took us so long to conceive this child. This isn’t some plot to save our marriage. We saved it because we love each other. And all we wanted was a family. And now that it’s happening, I wanted your happiness.”

     “But how can you assume someone like _him_ could be a good father?!”

     She bit her lip and whispered quietly yet forcefully. “Because I love him. And I believe in him. And it’s the least you can do if you love me.”

     There was a dead silence. She had put her father at a loss for words.

     “Papa” she said, regaining her strength. “I have let your remarks and attitude slide ever since my husband and I have gotten back together. But I can no longer do that because it hurts me. I know you’d never want to hurt me, but I also know you have a hard time limiting yourself. I won’t ask you again to stop disrespecting my husband. But if you do, then I don’t think I want to see you. And that hurts me too. But it’s best for all of us.”

     She glared her father in the eyes, holding back her tears with every ounce of strength she possessed. Xibalba, without a word, crossed the room and stood closely next to her, rubbing her arm. At his touched she turned and fell apart quietly again. This time, there were no tears. He could feel the pain in her aura. Glaring at Mictlan, he lifted her into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest vulnerably, and without word was carried away from the situation.

     As the parlor grew silent, Mictlan could feel the piercing stare coming from his wife. His bones grew cold just from the eye contact, and suddenly he found her just inches before him.

     “I can’t tell if you were just trying to be cruel, or if you’re really just as stupid as I sometimes forget you are,” she growled quietly through her teeth. “Get in the carriage. We’re going home.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] “Tar-for-brains” – per credit of the-musical-cc


End file.
